Simple Misunderstanding
by ShamelessLiar
Summary: Once, it was just a oneshot - first chapter can still stand alone. Katara was captured by Zuko, but there was a lapse in communication. Takes place after The Fortuneteller. Fierce Katara, honorable Zuko, and meddlesome Iroh. Also, music night!
1. Chapter 1

AN: Dear potentially disappointed readers... I got stuck. I'm snagged on the upcoming chapter of my other story and had to throw some energy into something else. Thus, you get a capture oneshot... because this scenario has been rattling around in my head and I have no self-control. Hope it's amusing enough to make up for the wait on His Majesty... D:

* * *

Katara gave her wrists another yank, but the result was the same.

She knew that it would be; she wasn't dumb. Still, there was something about the ropes binding her wrists to the headboard that demanded that she struggle. They were nothing but stupid leather strips. They had no right to hold her here.

Just like the Fire Nation. It had no right to hold her here, either. Yet, regardless of reason, this room, decked out in the jagged red-and-black of Fire Nation decor, was where she had awakened.

So, Katara struggled. She pulled and twisted until the knots had gotten so tight that her hands were growing cold and faintly blue for lack of blood. She pulled herself up and gnawed on the leather like a trapped animal. When that didn't work, she rolled her legs over her head and stomped against the wooden frame of the bed with her boots, trying to smash the wood.

_That_ seemed to be working. The posts creaked and split and the waterbender was pretty sure that she was about to make a brilliant escape when she heard the steel door clank open.

"My bed! What do you think you're doing?"

At the familiar, outraged tone, Katara let her hips fall back to the bed and peered to the doorway. There stood Prince Zuko, his face twisted in a furious scowl and ponytail practically bristling with rage. His armor and indignant posture made him seem huge.

This was _his_ bed?

She frowned right back, chin jutting forward stubbornly. "What's it look like? _Somebody_ was stupid enough to tie me to something breakable, so I'm breaking it." With a little grunt, Katara curled back up and proceeded with the smashing.

"Hey!" She could hear him storm across the room and he soon loomed over her from the bedside, pointing an imperious finger. "You will stop damaging my property _immediately_!"

"Make me!" Katara met his yellow eyes, bared her teeth, and gave the headboard another kick. It made an ominous cracking sound.

Zuko's good eye twitched slightly with the impact. His lip curled. "That does it, water peasant."

Then, he was on her, the thigh-plates of his armor pressed rigidly to her backside and his hands darting, struggling to control her flailing legs. She managed to get a few good kicks in before Zuko finally pinned her thighs against his sides, clamping his biceps down on them above the knee and bracing his hands halfway to her hips. His grip was hard, bruising, and he glared down at her, breathing heavily.

Katara glared back, her own chest heaving. He was dangerously close, but she was dangerously angry. Not ready to be intimidated, she lifted her head from the pillow and sneered. "Now what, _Your Highness_?"

"_Now_…" He snarled through clenched teeth, leaning closer to her face. "…you're going to tell me where the Avatar is going."

"Or what?" Even as the words shot from her mouth, Katara became aware that, as Zuko leaned closer, her legs were forced to spread wider. The cold of his armor was starting to seep through the fabric of her pants; she could feel it against her inner thighs, her bottom. She tried to hold her glare, but could feel it fading as her eyes widened.

"Or I'll… I'll…" Zuko's eyes narrowed further and his mouth pulled up in a frustrated line. He seemed to be thinking very hard. "I'll… burn your stupid necklace."

The waterbender blinked, still frowning. He threatened her… necklace? "That would be… really mean…" She glanced off to one side and tugged her shoulders upward slightly, then narrowed her eyes at him again. "…but I still won't tell you anything."

"Raugh!" He tilted his head back and breathed a short plume of flame, then turned back down to her, yelling. "Why can't you understand-?"

"Prince Zuko!" Katara watched the Prince's glare shoot to the doorway before following his gaze. His chubby uncle stood in the open door, looking shocked.

"What is it?" The tone of Zuko's bellow was not much different when directed at the old man.

The other firebender frowned disapprovingly and shook his head. "A man does not raise his voice at a young lady in his bed, my nephew. I think you will find that gentle words meet with much more pleasurable reactions. Also…" He raised a finger, brows riding high. "A man usually closes his door before joining her."

Katara watched as the anger drained from the Prince's face and was replaced by something like shock. He whipped his head around, ponytail swinging, and looked back down at her. His wide yellow eyes flicked over her, taking in her face, her tied wrists, her chest, her hips, and his own grip on her thighs. His fingers relaxed and, for a long second, his eyes seemed glued to the narrow space between them, where her legs spread to allow his hips, just below his golden belt buckle.

Katara swallowed, her face heating slightly under his stare. She could almost see the thought as it blossomed in his brain.

…_girl… in my… bed?_

His good cheek turned startlingly red and, for an instant, he stared into her eyes, his mouth hanging slightly open. Then, his good eyebrow jumped up his forehead and he scrambled to get away from her.

After a less-than-graceful tumble from the foot of the bed, Zuko rose back into her line of sight and immediately assumed a belligerent posture, hands fisted and elbows bent.

"Uncle, why was the prisoner not taken to the brig, as I commanded?"

"Oh, is _that_ what you said?" Iroh folded his hands together over his belly and bowed his head forward slightly in a gesture of embarrassment, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "It was so _windy_ outside, I could barely hear you… Brig, bed – they sound so alike! I'm sure you'll forgive your old uncle for such a simple misunderstanding." He offered a shrug and a sly smile. "After all, it certainly looked as if you had matters well in hand…"

Zuko, every unscarred part of his face going pink, now, jabbed a finger at the bound waterbender, though his eyes stayed on the old man. "She was _destroying_ my bed. I had to stop her!"

"Of course, Prince Zuko. I understand, completely." Iroh was still smiling. "Shall I leave you to contin-?"

"No!" Katara jerked slightly at the loudness of the Prince's response and watched, brow furrowed, as he made a visible effort to calm himself and moderate his tone. "Take her to the brig, where she belongs. I will… go… check on the helm." He stalked past his uncle and vanished out the door.

Iroh peered after him for a moment, expression thoughtful. When he turned back into the room and found Katara scowling at him, his eyes widened.

"How _could_ you?" She shook her head slowly, rattled by the depth of her disappointment in this man. He was supposed to be her enemy, yet she had expected so much better from him; he had always seemed so… decent. Her voice climbed. "Tying me to his bed? Even if you did misunderstand what he said, I'm sure you were aware of what this could have led to! How could you condone such _loathsome_ behavior?"

Iroh looked genuinely apologetic, holding his hands out in an offering gesture. "Please, let me explain." He approached slowly, speaking in his calm, raspy voice. "My nephew is… an unusual young man…" His gaze flicked to her bluish hands and, with a furrowed brow, he immediately pulled a short knife from his sash and reached to cut the cord. "So sorry – I do not remember these being this tight when I tied them."

Katara cleared her throat and, when her hand dropped free, flexed her fingers. "I may have pulled… a bit."

"Ah… That does make sense." Iroh cast her a speculative sideways glance as he walked around the bed. He went on as he began cutting the other rope. "Prince Zuko is so very focused on the task set before him that he never spares a moment for the things that make life good… like tea or a good game of Pai Sho…" The second cord snapped.

Katara frowned and sat up, unwrapping the remnants of the ropes and rubbing her newly-freed hands together. She looked up to find Iroh smiling down at her, hands folded into his sleeves before him.

"…or a pretty young lady."

The waterbender blinked and her frown deepened. She would not be bought with compliments. "So you thought you'd just… tie me up for him? That's… very twisted… even for the Fire Nation."

Iroh's face reddened slightly and he looked off to one side. "I assure you that I had no intention of letting anything happen to you; that is why I arrived here when I did. I stood on the deck, expecting Prince Zuko to join me at any moment with a loud report of my error… but he did not come. I was deeply surprised to find him as he was…" He shook his head and looked back at her. "…and I am sorry to have put you in such a compromising position, Katara."

The waterbender went on rubbing her wrists and frowning, her head tipped forward so that she could glare with maximum potency up at the old firebender. "If you didn't expect him to… take advantage of me, what was the point?"

He held up a finger, smiling. "A subtle attempt to alter my nephew's way of viewing the young people he interacts with. He has always considered you and your brother as no more than obstacles between himself and the thing that he wants most in the world. I thought that putting you here might make him think of you in a different light."

Katara's frown morphed into skepticism. "How is viewing me as a war-prize any better?"

Iroh looked genuinely taken aback. "You, Katara? A war-prize?" He chuckled a little. "You are a warrior, in your own right. My nephew knows this. In fact, I do not think he even really acknowledged you as a young lady before I pointed it out to him…" His smile faded, expression growing sober. "Prince Zuko also knows that taking war-prizes is no way to go about regaining his honor."

Katara thought back to Zuko's shocked expression, his long moment of staring, and his sudden retreat. It made sense… sort of.

"And speaking of regaining honor, I think I owe you a rather significant debt…" Iroh unfolded his hands, holding the little knife between finger and thumb and glancing up and off to one side. It clattered to the floor. "Oops. I seem to have dropped my knife. Clumsy me." As he bent forward to retrieve it, he murmured. "Left out the door, then down the stairs."

She didn't need to be told twice.

With a final, astonished blink, Katara leapt from the bed and darted out of the room. She went left as he had instructed, but pulled up short at the stairwell. From below came the clank of soldiers climbing. In a snap decision, she scurried up, taking two steps at a time.

She came to an open door that led onto what had to be the bridge; there were control panels below the windows at the front of the room, manned by crewmen. Miraculously, they were all facing toward the front of the ship and no one spotted her as she hesitated in the doorway.

There was another door at the opposite side of the room that led onto an observation deck, where the sun was shining brightly, almost blindingly.

The waterbender swallowed and, before she could change her mind, made a mad dash across the bridge and through the open doorway to the observation deck. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the brightness and she skidded to a halt as she recognized the armored figure standing by the rail before her.

Zuko, hearing her footfalls, whirled to face her. For a second, their eyes locked.

He looked as fierce as ever, from the broad plates of his armor to the black shag of his ponytail whipping in the cold wind. His scowl was still intense, determined…

…but he hesitated.

Katara didn't. She dodged to the right and took a running leap, hurling herself over the side of the observation deck. For a few long seconds, her body hurtled toward the distant sea. Fearing the impact, she raised her arms. The ocean reached up to accept her.

* * *

Zuko leaned forward, hands fisted around the railing as he watched the Water Tribe girl bob in the ship's wake. She had hit the water with barely a splash. From so far, he couldn't determine the look on her face when she peered back at him, but he could see the gesture when she clapped her arms together and shot away through the water like a startled squid.

The Fire Prince considered commanding a change in course to recapture his prisoner.

He also thumbed the necklace twined around his wrist and considered the way she had felt beneath him, the way she had looked up at him, eyes startlingly blue and wide…

…and afraid.

Iroh came panting onto the observation deck. "Prince Zuko! The prisoner has escaped – she was too quick!"

Zuko turned a suspicious frown back on his uncle. "I noticed that."

The old man approached and peered back into the wake of the ship, squinting at the dwindling spot that was the waterbender as she pushed further and further away. He frowned inquiringly at the younger man. "You do not plan to pursue her?"

For a long moment, Zuko frowned after the escaped prisoner. Weeks ago, when he had captured her with the help of those pirates, she had not seemed afraid… after that initial shock wore off, anyway. She hadn't seemed afraid this time, either – that is, not until he had become _aware_ of her and started staring. Now, she probably thought he was a monster.

Zuko's eyebrow tilted back. He had… liked the way she felt against him. Maybe he _was_ a monster.

No. No, he would never take advantage of a helpless woman. How dare she even think that he might? How dare she think so little of him – so little of his honor?

Oh, he'd show her just how honorable he could be. He'd lock her up – _in the brig – _and she could sit there, being a girl and basking in his honorable treatment like any other war prisoner-

…regardless of her pretty blue eyes…

-until the Avatar showed up to rescue her and was instead taken captive, himself. Yes, that was what Zuko would do.

"Helmsman!" He turned and glared through the windows to the bridge. "Turn this ship around!"

As the steamer began to alter its course, Zuko stood imperiously, glaring off towards the now-vanished waterbender.

"…show _you_ honor…"

At the rail beside him, Iroh folded his hands together over his belly. He cast his nephew a sideways glance and the corners of his mouth twitched slightly upward.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: Yeah... no self control. It's a theme, here.

For those of you waiting on HMPB, it is NOT abandoned. The new chapter is almost ready and should be up within the coming week. I am *REALLY* sorry to all of you for keeping you waiting for so long! Once again, I hope this goofy little side-fic might appease you until I get my act together.

* * *

**Oneshot, Part Two (eyeroll)**

Katara's arms were very, very tired. They had the sluggish, unresponsive feeling of limbs that hadn't been made to work this hard before. Of course, the waterbender was no stranger to hard work – everyone worked at the South Pole – but the combination of the unfamiliar flapping motion and the chilly water sapped the strength from her with alarming speed.

And the speed at which that ship was approaching was alarming, too.

For a while, Katara had thought that she was being released, that the Fire Prince had decided that he didn't actually want a prisoner after all. The waterbender had watched the ship speed off into the distance, the space between them fed by a combination of the steamer's engines and Katara's clumsy, instinctive bending. When the dark blob in the distance turned broadside and began to grow larger again, she had squawked in alarm and redoubled her efforts, but it was no use.

Katara cast a desperate eye over her shoulder, scanning the horizon for any speck of land, any place she might hide, but there was nothing. She stopped paddling and just treaded water for a time, catching her breath and watching as the black ship drew nearer. There was no way she could outpace its engines and, now that the adrenaline had dropped to a simmer in her system and she could think clearly, she realized that marooning herself at sea wasn't actually the best idea, anyway.

The waterbender wasn't sure how long she had been unconscious aboard the Prince's vessel, so she had no clue how far she was, now, from the island where she and the boys had made camp. She didn't even know which direction she should be going; she could guess, but if there was one thing she had learned in her travels with Aang, it was that the ocean was very, very big. Even if she did pick the right general direction, it would be all too easy for her to miss the island the boys were on and send herself even further out to sea.

Much as Katara detested the thought of giving up and just _allowing_ herself to become Prince Zuko's prisoner, running wasn't a viable option – not now, anyway – and continuing would just wear her out and make her docile when he eventually did catch up to her. While fighting single-handed against a ship full of Fire Nation soldiers wasn't really likely to end in a victory for the waterbender, either, she didn't want to seem too agreeable when they took her aboard. She had her pride, after all.

So, Katara bobbed in the waves as the steamer approached and consoled herself by plotting her escape even before her capture.

* * *

Zuko drew away from his spyglass with a frown. "The Water Tribe girl has stopped fleeing. Lieutenant Jee, have the men prepare a net!"

Stoic as ever, Jee only blinked. "Yes, sir."

As the gray-haired officer strode off to follow orders, Iroh cleared his throat. "Prince Zuko, perhaps it would be more gentlemanly to offer her a rope ladder? She is a young lady, after all… not a fish."

The younger firebender turned a scowl on his uncle. "I don't _care _if she's a young lady! She's an escaped prisoner and she'll be netted like any other creature we drag out of the sea!"

"Of course, of course. My mistake." Iroh linked his hands behind his back and stood beside his nephew, watching the dot that was Katara grow larger.

After a moment, Zuko spoke again, his tone more moderate. "Uncle, why do you think she stopped trying to escape? Could she be planning some kind of attack?"

"I do not know, my nephew… Perhaps she has grown weary or is unsure of which way to go." Iroh's face split into a sly grin and he cast the other firebender a sideways glance. "…or perhaps she has decided that she does not mind being your prisoner so much, after all!"

The Fire Prince shot his uncle a dark look before commanding the helmsman to reduce speed and stalking off to the lower deck.

* * *

Katara stared up the side of the ship, squinting to pick out the distant shapes of soldiers peering down at her. They heaved something overboard and, before she could react beyond taking a breath and ducking her head so that her face wouldn't be hit, a net came down on top of her. The rope was heavy and she found herself submerged, then entangled as she tried to resurface. It was actually a relief when they began hauling her up – at least then she could breathe.

During her ascension, the waterbender's annoyance grew with each upward jerk so that, when the net was finally overturned and she tumbled to her belly on the deck, Katara was contemplating murder. She rose slowly to her hands and knees, water dripping from her clothes and tangled hair, and found herself glaring up into the smug face of Prince Zuko.

He stood with hands braced on his armored hips, the warlike tail of his hair flipping in the wind. Behind him stood his pensive uncle and a handful of soldiers, but Katara's point of fierce focus went no further than the smirking Fire Prince.

"So, you gave up. I guess you're a smart girl, after all." His patronizing tone made the waterbender's lip curl up in a sneer. The firebender seemed even more amused. "Get up, water peasant – unless, of course, you're not through wallowing on my deck like a landed guppy-trout."

Steady and seething, Katara rose to her feet. The wind cut through her wet clothes as if they weren't even there, but she focused on slow, deep breathing and on looking her enemy in the eye. She clenched her jaw to stop its chattering, but did nothing to fight the deep scowl from her face.

Prince Zuko went on, expression that of a man who knew authority as his right. "You are now a prisoner aboard my ship and I suggest you cooperate, as a gesture of your gratitude for my leniency in regards to your pathetic attempt at escape."

Standing fully erect, Katara still had to tilt her head up to glare at him. In fact, her chin lifted to exactly the same angle she used to scold Sokka, which was perhaps part of the reason for her words. The other part of the reason was probably the cold, leaching any lingering good sense from her.

"Go soak yourself, P-prince Hotpants."

Prince Zuko glared down his nose at her for a long moment, then spoke through gritted teeth. "Men, take the prisoner to the brig."

Katara became suddenly aware that there were guards behind her as well and, as one of the men approached her, she drew a water whip up from the puddles in which she stood. The liquid cracked against his armor before returning to the bender's side – and splashing impotently to the boards beneath her. She glanced around at the ring of men surrounding her, teeth bared, and iced over the water lingering on the deck. A couple of the soldiers toppled over and one man found his boots frozen down, but the others rushed in and became a wall of grabbing hands. Katara flailed against them, but quickly found herself restrained by a man at each arm. She yanked against them, but they were too heavy, too strong.

"I see you've been practicing that ridiculous whip technique," the Prince still glared down his nose at her, as if the struggle hadn't even occurred. "Think of your time here as a chance to hone that skill – you clearly need it." His tone sharpened. "The brig. Now!"

With that, Katara was hustled away down some stairs and into the dark belly of the ship.

* * *

Finally, with the Water Tribe girl out of the way – Prince_ Hotpants?_ Who did she think she was? – he could focus again on his mission.

Zuko stood at the prow of the ship, glaring out over the sea to the west. The sun was edging toward the horizon and, beyond that, his home. It seemed impossibly far away but, with the girl aboard, he felt he was getting closer. Somewhere, the Avatar was searching for his lost friend. Inevitably, the boy would catch up. The Fire Prince could only hope that he would be ready when the time came.

That had been his mistake in the past – a lack of preparation. This time would be different. This time, he would train harder, longer. He would do away with his uncle's stupid tea breaks. He would train every hour that the sun gave him. In fact, the sun had some hours yet to offer today…

"Uncle!" Prince Zuko spun on his heel, only to find the startled old man sitting at his little table just a few paces away.

Iroh's wide eyes quickly relaxed as he smiled, looking a bit self-satisfied. "Do not trouble yourself, my nephew. It is already taken care of!"

"I must train, Uncle. The Avatar could catch up with us at any time. I need to be ready to…" The younger man pulled up short. "What is taken care of?"

"Oh, many things are taken care of, Prince Zuko." Iroh began ticking items off on one hand, clutching some game tiles in the other. "The prisoner has been given dry clothes and blankets to stay warm – I have always been amazed at how cold it becomes in the brig on these old steamers! I also ensured that she had some rice and hot tea because you can never be too-"

"She hasn't been back on the ship for an hour and you've already _fed_ her?" Zuko peered at his uncle, narrow-eyed and incredulous. This did not seem like proper treatment for a war prisoner…

Iroh ignored his question and laid a tile down on the board before him, peering thoughtfully at those remaining in his hand. "Yes, my nephew, you make a valid point. I am told the cook plans to make dragon-tern stew with the last of the dried meat, tonight. Not, of course, that he has complained about the stock of the galley, but he has expressed some desire to make a stop for supplies."

Zuko paused a beat before gnashing his teeth, hands curling into fists at his sides. "No. We are not stopping this ship. I need all the time to prepare that I can get and going back to catch the water tribe girl has already slowed us down too much. No stops."

The old man cast him a woeful look, holding his hands helplessly out to his sides. "Nephew, if we do not stop at some point, we will be reduced to eating only the rice with the bugs in it that the cook hung onto in case of emergencies."

"I don't care! I'll eat bugs _without_ the rice if it means catching the Avatar!"

Iroh frowned at his nephew and laid the last of his tiles in a heap on the table. "Prince Zuko, are you feeling alright? Perhaps you should sit here with me and have a hot-"

Zuko flung one arm sideways, sending a dazzle of sparks over the ship's side. "No, Uncle! I don't want a hot cup of tea or a game of Pai Sho or… or… a _girl_ or whatever ridiculous thing you are about to offer me. I want to train. I must train."

The old man let out a breath. "Very well. Begin with Phoenix Pierces The Moon and work backwards to Crane Drops His Guard…"

* * *

Katara was very pleased with herself. She burrowed into the blankets layered over her simple rope bed in the brig, warm and dry. It was amazingly nice to have enough food to eat after the past few weeks of hunting for every nut and wild fruit. With a belly full of rice and tea and weariness weighing her limbs, the waterbender was beginning to drowse, secure in her own brilliance. After all, she had gone to prison on purpose before – how different could this be?

Of course, she had had the support of her friends and a mass of rebelling earthbenders, that time. And she had had the secret of her waterbending. Not to mention, the prison was just a rig at sea rather an actual cell with locks and bars…

Katara sighed and peered through the dimly-lit room of cages toward the guard, who sat at a low table, apparently playing some kind of game. He seemed to be stuck, stroking his lower lip with one finger as he thought. The waterbender shut her eyes and focused on making a brilliant decision… rather than a big, unfixable mistake.

Then, things started exploding.

The blasts were distant, but Katara would recognize the familiar sounds of firebending anywhere. She shot upright amongst the blankets in her bed, staring wide-eyed at the guard.

"What _is_ that? Is the ship under attack?"

The armored man released a slow sigh and did not look up, shifting one of the game tiles on the table before him. "No. The ship is not under attack."

He seemed content to leave it at that, but Katara climbed from the bed and gripped the chilly bars of her cell, determined. "It sounds like there's a lot of firebending going on up there. Aren't you even a little concerned?"

The guard cast her a dry glance, his drooping moustaches only further emphasizing his lack of enthusiasm. "I would be more concerned if I didn't hear the Prince training."

Katara blinked and frowned at the ceiling of her cell, through which the blasts still rumbled. She waited a moment longer, but when the guard only went on playing his game and the cold of the steel floor began to sting her feet, the waterbender clambered back into the rope bed. She lay on her back, now too on-edge for sleep.

After a while, she began to pick out patterns in the rhythms of blasts as the Prince practiced the same set of forms over and over and _over_ again. Occasionally, there would be long silences and Katara would begin to doze off, only to startle awake as the activity resumed with renewed vigor.

It crossed her mind that, if Aang was as determined in his training as the Fire Prince, he would probably have already mastered water... not that Katara would criticize Aang for a lack of dedication… Well, maybe just a bit.

But that, of course, didn't mean that she would praise Prince Zuko. He was a terrible person whose only ambition was to snuff out the world's last hope for peace. He hunted her friends like animals and clearly had no consideration for anyone on the planet but himself. Actually, the most positive thing about the Prince that Katara could think of was, 'He could be worse.'

She rolled onto her side and covered one ear with her blankets, trying to muffle the sounds. She couldn't muffle the memory of the furious Prince looming over her, gripping her thighs with steely hands, pressed against her in the most intimate position she'd ever found herself in with a boy. There had been a terrible second when she realized that she might be about to pay an unthinkably high price for being brave…

…but the look in Zuko's eyes when he fully realized the implications of what he was doing…

He had looked like nothing more than a startled kid in his dad's armor. Katara had never seen a Fire Nation man blush, before – she hadn't realized that they were capable – and the memory of it stuck with her pleasantly. But so, too, did the memory of his golden eyes – the enemy's eyes – roaming her body, coming to rest between her legs.

He could be worse.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Thanks for your reviews, reviewers! To fully display the depth of my lack of self-control, here's the rest of Team Avatar!

* * *

"Sokka…" Aang peered over his shoulder toward the mouth of the cave in which they had set up camp for the night. "It's sunset and Katara's still not back. Shouldn't we be, you know, getting worried right about now?"

The Water Tribe boy looked up from the slowly bubbling concoction in the pot before him and took in the delicate crease forming between the young Avatar's brows. Outside, the light was orange and sharply angled. In his focus on his next culinary masterpiece, Sokka hadn't realized the day had come so quickly to an end. Aang had a point – Katara had been gone for hours.

…but then, she'd been in an awfully bad mood when she left to wash the laundry. She'd even commanded him – the _man_ – to do the cooking. Sokka had put it off most of the day, preferring to nap in the chilly sunshine and snack on gathered nuts than to bend to his sister's will, but his past experiences with these sorts of snarled parting demands had taught him one very clear lesson; if Katara said 'cook' and Sokka didn't do it, there would be no hot food.

Really, when she entered what the young warrior privately called the 'berserker blood-lust phase' of her moon cycle, it was best to stay clear and let her take her frustrations out on the laundry. Not that Sokka expected Aang to understand this…

"You know," the Water Tribe boy remarked with a thoughtful squint, "I'd actually call that a quarter-till-sunset. Let's wait until the food's ready. One whiff of this stuff and she'll pop right up – just you wait!"

Even as he said the words, though, Sokka's gut started doing that little flipping thing. His instincts were telling him that something wasn't right.

* * *

"Alright, one more test before we panic. Ready?"

Aang nodded at him and his wide mouth set in a grim line as he laid both hands over his ears.

Sokka marched out into the growing gloom outside the cave, raised the pot and spoon in his hands, and began banging them together. Behind him, Appa gave a reproachful groan and Momo made the usual screechy protests, but none of this distracted the young man from his task.

"Katara! I dirtied dishes and I'm never ever going to wash them! I didn't even rinse the food off, so it's all dried-on and gummy, now!" He paused to listen. The island was silent below him, the conifers black and jagged in the dimming light of day.

With a sigh, Sokka turned back into the cave, laid aside the pot, and went about calmly making a pair of torches. His movements were steady and practiced, but his gut was flipping like he'd swallowed a live fish.

His little sister was in big, big trouble.

* * *

Zuko lay in his bed and scowled at the ceiling in the faint light.

The Fire Prince was no stranger to invasive thoughts. He had thought about the Avatar in his every waking moment for over two years now and, since the boy's reappearance, had had many occasions to lay awake at night, seething. Usually, long sessions of physical activity and meditation were enough to sooth his nerves and propel him forcibly into sleep. Tonight, though, it was not so easy as exhaustion, deep breathing, and emptying his mind. He could only assume this was because the source of this night's invasive thoughts was actually aboard his ship.

That, and his pillow smelled faintly of salt water and her hair.

Images kept popping into his mind. At first, it would be just those angry blue eyes and her furious voice, challenging him, denying him what he wanted. From there, his mind would flow seamlessly to laying his hands on her, gripping her hard and holding her still beneath him.

And this… excited him. Unbidden, his mind shot through an array of delicious details – her legs clamped against his sides, her blue-and-white clothing in disarray, the narrow gap that had separated their intimate parts. Even her fierceness itself was pleasing in a way that Zuko did not fully understand. Over and over, the firebender caught his arousal building and, over and over, he narrowed his thoughts to the precise measure of his breathing, willing it away.

Because the Fire Prince refused to accept the obvious solution for this particular frustration. To derive pleasure from a situation that had clearly frightened the Water Tribe girl smacked of dishonor. And she had been frightened. He could clearly picture her bound wrists, her helpless rage, and the stretch of her blue eyes as fear took her and these things sickened him. No, he would not behave like the man she thought he was.

He would show _her_ honor.

Regretfully, Zuko could not exactly show her this particular display of his good behavior, a fact that only served to further frustrate him. He gritted his teeth and rolled to his side to scowl at the Imperial tapestry hanging on his wall for a while.

In the steadily-turning mill of the firebender's brain, frustration was inevitably ground down to anger. This sleeplessness was all the girl's fault. If her people weren't such savages, she wouldn't have gotten the wrong idea about him. She was probably uneducated and therefore ignorant of the Fire Nation's strict code of honor.

But not knowing the inherent honor of the Fire Nation was no excuse for assuming that he, the prince of the greatest nation in the world, would stoop to molesting her, a peasant. Just who did she think she was?

Zuko jerked the blankets over to one side and gave his pillow one good, completely necessary punch. He was a doer. He should be doing something about this annoyance, not struggling unnecessarily to ignore it.

Slowly, a smirk crept onto his face. If he should be forced to lie awake at night because of the Water Tribe girl's lack of an education, it was only fair for _her_ to lose sleep learning the truth of things.

* * *

After trudging around the island in the dark for half the night, Sokka and Aang finally stumbled upon the laundry. The Water Tribe sleeping bags were draped over a line tied between two trees, along with a procession of worn socks, some of Katara's underclothes, and Sokka's parka – which had so recently fallen victim to the ducks at Aunt Wu's.

The airbender ran one hand over the clean fabric, expression hopeful. "This stuff is all pretty dry… Maybe she just finished and went to do something else."

Sokka, scanning the edge of the nearby stream by the light of his torch, pulled up short. "I don't think so, Aang. Look." On a large, flat rock beside a wide pool, he had found a pile of dry fabric wadded next to the bar of laundry soap. "Katara wouldn't just stop working mid-task. She must have been interrupted. Help me look for more signs."

The stream was mainly lined with large stones, so there weren't any immediately noticeable tracks. In their rising panic, though, it didn't take the boys long to find something. "Sokka!" The Water Tribe warrior sprinted back up the stream to where Aang was crouched over the sand on the far bank of the pool. He didn't even really notice wading through the icy water, didn't feel it filling his boots. All he really saw was the younger boy's huge eyes and the wide shape pressed into the sand before him.

"Platypus-bear. Big one." Sokka turned back to view the scene again and signs seemed to appear before his eyes – stones torn from their places, puddles unusually far up the bank. He could almost see it happening. "She didn't hear it coming through the bushes because of the noise of the water… but – see this? – there's still ice between these rocks. Katara must have tried to freeze it down, here." He swallowed. "It was too strong, broke free…"

Sokka began to dash down the stream, eyes darting from sign to sign. How could he have missed all this before? There were raw stripes in the streambed where the beast must have slashed at the ground, sending rocks and water flying in an aggressive display. On a branch hanging low over the water, there were leaves sliced neatly in half; Katara must have hurled blades of ice as she retreated.

Her voice came back to him, echoing from just days ago. _Run downhill! Then climb a tree!_

Sokka whirled back to the frightened-looking airbender. "She ran this way! Look for a good climbing tree."

* * *

Katara burrowed deeper into her blankets as she heard the clank of an opening door, the murmur of voices. She was sore and her skin was grimy with sea salt, but the bed was so soft… Did Aang always have to get up this stupidly early? What was the point when Sokka wouldn't move until mid-morning?

"Wake up, water peasant."

At the familiar voice, the waterbender jerked out of bed to crouch on the shockingly cold floor – the steel floor – blinking in the half-light of the guard's candle. It took her a moment to remember where she was, that she was already captured and, in the time it took her to realize there was really no point in running away while in a cell, she had backed up to the rear wall of her enclosure. On the other side of the bars stood Prince Zuko, looking as cross as usual.

As she watched, his scowl deepened further. "Those are _my_ clothes. How did you-?" He cut himself off and shut his eyes long enough to draw a deep breath. "Never mind. I know."

Katara peered down at the over-sized red tunic and breeches that Iroh had given her. These were _Prince Zuko's_ clothes? She wasn't even wearing her bindings under these clothes! That was… incredibly weird. Watching the still-distracted firebender, she slowly crossed her arms to conceal her unbound chest. Her face was blazing. Maybe he hadn't noticed. Though, she had certainly noticed that she wasn't the only one underdressed…

The Fire Prince folded his bare and very muscular arms over the sleeveless black tunic he wore and leveled a frown at her. It was oddly less threatening and more aristocratic than any expression Katara had ever seen on his face. "Since you're just a simple peasant, I've decided to forgive your ridiculous assumption that I might molest you. Your people clearly don't understand the concepts of honor or royalty and you're obviously ignorant of the seventeenth clause of Fire Nation Protocol, which states that a prisoner shall be treated with dignity within reason of-" He stopped and his frown returned to the intensity she was familiar with. "Pay attention and quit gaping at me like a moron."

Katara, blinking, managed to shut her mouth, but not for more than an instant. "You woke me up in the middle of the night… to forgive _me_-" She planted a palm against her chest. "-for believing that _you_ were going to… _molest_ me." Her face still felt warm, but she hardly noticed. A terrible force was building within her.

Prince Zuko's eyes narrowed slightly. "I also planned to explain that the Fire Nation does not condone such barbaric practices, but since you're having trouble keeping up, I guess we could slow down." He mimicked her gestures, touching his chest and pointing at her and speaking at a reduced speed. "_I_… wouldn't touch _you_… because _you_ are as far beneath _me_ as a common crab-rat and _I_ wouldn't want to dirty my hands with _your_ unwashed hide."

The waterbender wasn't sure how she had gotten so much closer to the Fire Prince, but the bars were the only thing stopping her from reaching out and slapping him. She glared up at him and there was no echo of scolding Sokka in her mind, now. There was only the face of the enemy, the mind of the enemy. "How dare you talk to me that way! If you honestly believe that being the son of that… that murdering psychopath makes you _better_ than me, you're crazy! You evil, arrogant… _jerk_!"

Prince Zuko loomed over her, fists balled at his sides as his tone built up from a snarl. "You impudent peasant! Who do you think you are to so much as _speak_ of the Fire Lord, much less-"

"And another thing!" She pointed a finger in his face, quivering with her fury. The Fire Prince's eyes darted to that finger before returning to meet her gaze, his expression struggling between anger and shock, but Katara was beyond noticing. Her rage was blind as a storm. "Those 'barbaric practices' you mentioned happen everywhere the Fire Nation invades! It's as much a calling card of your people as burned houses and imprisoned benders and, after some of the stories I've heard, I had _every reason_ to think what I did about you! _You forgive me_? Hah!" She barked the sound and it rattled through all the bars in the brig. By the door, the guard shifted in his chair and stared determinedly down at his game tiles. "As if _I_ wronged _you_! As if _I_ tied _you_ down and jumped on top of _you_ and _threatened_ _**you**_!"

Prince Zuko regained some of his bluster, leaning closer so that he could shout down into Katara's face, which only served to further infuriate the waterbender. "Hey, I didn't order that you be tied to my bed! That was a misunderstanding! And I didn't _jump_ on you and, besides that, you gave me little choice in how to deal with you when you refused to stop destroying my prop-!"

"_And another thing!_"

* * *

Sokka was pretty sure he'd lost the trail when they got to the waterfall. The sheer cliff offered no hand or footholds to climb down and none of the surrounding trees had damage to their bark like he would expect from a frustrated platypus-bear. Besides, none of them had the low branches he knew Katara would prefer – not an ambitious climber, his sister.

He really hoped he would get the chance to tease her again about that.

With their torches, Aang and Sokka circled the area for what felt like hours, but they found no trace of either bear or bender. The Water Tribe boy stood on the cliff's edge, watching the falling water sparkle in the firelight before vanishing into the darkness. From far, far below, he thought he could hear the steady crash of waves. His gut was flipping again.

Aang came to stand beside him. "Do… do you think she-?"

"There's no way Katara would jump from a height like this just to get away from a stupid platypus-bear. Just no way." She knew better than any of them that hitting water from too great a height was just like hitting earth, that there could be rocks below the surface, and that it was much easier – even for a waterbender – to drown with broken bones than to swim with them. Sokka shook his head slowly, as if to deny what instinct was telling him.

Then, the ground beneath him shifted.

As the rocks of the cliff's edge gave under the boys' combined weight and began to crumble away, just did a fancy backflip and blew a little air to reach safety. Sokka wasn't so lucky. The ground dropped out from under him and, with a squawk, he grabbed at whatever stable thing he could reach. Stones and earth broke away under his hands and, in the scrambling seconds before what would have been a very long fall, his fingers found something ropey and tough, something that held.

Aang's face appeared above him as the young airbender grasped the new edge and peered desperately down at him. "Sokka! Are you okay?"

"Yeah… Yeah, thanks to these tree roots…"

He stopped and stared at the roots. They were thick and broken where they stuck out of the cliff face, as if…

"Aang, I know what happened to Katara!"

The younger boy beamed. "That's great, Sokka! Er…" He reached down toward him, sticking his tongue out to one side in focus. "Want a hand?"

"Oh… yeah! Thanks!" As the Avatar helped him climb up to solid ground, the warrior strained and explained. "She would have climbed a tree with low branches – the kind that grows in places where they get lots of sunlight, like this cliff. Ow!" He quickly went on, trying to ignore the pain from banging his shin on a protruding rock. "So, she climbs this tree right by the edge, thinking it's stable, but platypus bears are pretty persistent, so this one probably stood up and started shoving the tree and-" Aang tugged him over the edge and, both panting, they sat down a safe distance away. Sokka swallowed, peering back. "And then the whole tree went down – probably the platypus bear, too."

They were silent for a long minute, sitting together in the fading light from the torch Aang had dropped. Finally, the airbender spoke very softly. "And Katara."

Sokka swallowed and forced out the words. "And Katara."

He was remembering that time, so many years ago now, that his sister had fallen into the ocean near the village. Their father had jerked Sokka back by his coat to keep the boy from diving after her before laying on his belly on the edge of the ice, only his huge arms submerged. It seemed like forever before Katara's limp body finally rose out of the dark water and, though Hakoda immediately rushed her inside, her skin had been so blue with the cold and her eyes had been dull for days after, as if a good friend had unexpectedly betrayed her. She'd had more respect for her element after that; Sokka knew this, because he had been watching his little sister more closely ever since.

He didn't notice when Aang withdrew, but the sound of the monk opening his glider threw Sokka into motion. "No, Aang!" In one powerful leap, he managed to grab the collar of the boy's tunic and stop him from running off the cliff. Grounded, the airbender jerked away and, in the dying light, Sokka could see the scowl on his face. "You won't be able to see down there and if you crash into something, I won't be able to get to you without going back for Appa."

"So you just want to leave Katara down there? She might be hurt!"

"You think I don't know that?"

They were silent for a long moment as both absorbed the panic and frustration of Sokka's shout. The young warrior took a deep breath and went on in a low voice. "I want to save her, too, but we can't just dive in after her, Aang. We have to wait for daylight."

The Avatar stood firm for a moment, quivering with his frustration, his anger, but then he seemed to melt. With a deep sigh, he closed his glider and sank to the ground.

Sokka knelt beside him, his heart feeling like a big open sore and his guts twisting themselves into knots.

Slowly, the torch died. Had it not, the two boys would never have spotted the spark that appeared on the western horizon.

* * *

Zuko wasn't entirely sure what was going on, here. Usually, when he yelled at someone, that someone withdrew. That someone got tired or discouraged or finally came to understand that Zuko was right. Then, there was usually an apology, perhaps a little self-deprecation and the natural order was at last restored.

The waterbender was relentless. She seemed to draw upon wave after wave of fresh fury, new and different things that she could yell at him about. It was almost as if she had been keeping track of everything she had ever seen him do that struck her as morally hazy and the Fire Prince was now getting a full statement of his account. Some of the things she yelled about weren't exactly _his_ fault, but more a general result of the war. For instance…

"-but there was no one to teach me! You know why? Because the Fire Nation took _all_ of the waterbenders away, decades ago! Rounded them up like a bunch of stray cow-sheep and herded them off to prisons or death camps or whatever inhumanly horrible place they thought was appropriate! Is that how you think of us? As animals?" She gestured at herself sharply, face curled in scathing disbelief. "Is that how you can justify all of the despicable things that you do?"

The Water Tribe girl finally seemed to be losing steam, though; her chest was heaving and her voice was a little hoarse from the hideous volumes and pitches she had been reaching. Zuko, who had stood for a long while with his arms crossed and his face locked into a tight frown, decided it was time to attempt a new tactic.

He had tried arguing with her in the beginning, had tried to overwhelm her temper with his, but it was like trying to put out a campfire with blasting jelly – she just came back at him, harder than before. The temptation to shut her up with a little fire was almost irresistible, but Zuko was well-versed in self-control (unlike some lunatic waterbenders) and, besides, frightening her into submission defeated the purpose of his presence… though it admittedly seemed impossible to teach this opinionated girl anything about the honor of the Fire Nation. He had also considered just going back to his quarters and pretending that this had never happened, but that seemed a lot like retreating and Zuko wasn't about to accept defeat.

So, in the silent moment after her question, the Fire Prince tipped his head to one side, narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, and spoke in a low voice. "Are you unwell, waterbender?"

He barely contained his smirk as shock suffused her features. The flow of rage was dammed. "I… what?"

"Are you unwell - did you sustain a head injury or eat any mood-altering plants?"

Her face was reddening and her eyes seemed only to grow wider. How interesting… "No… Why- why do you think…?"

"You're clearly not in your right mind. I could call the ship medic to check you, if it's necessary."

Zuko watched through narrowed eyes as the Water Tribe girl pinched hers shut and rubbed her forehead. Yes, she was definitely losing the edge of her temper. Now, if he could just…

She sniffed.

To the Fire Prince's bewilderment, the waterbender started wiping her eyes with the over-long sleeves of _his_ shirt. Zuko stared, wide-eyed. What had happened? Was it something he had said? Was she actually as crazy as he suspected she might be? "Are… Are you _crying_?" he demanded, though it was obvious that she was.

"No!" She spoke through the fabric, voice muffled and regularly interrupted by her sniffling. "I'm just so… so tired and I miss Sokka and Aang and I really wish I hadn't been so mean when I left and they're probably so worried about me right now but I don't know how they're going to find me since I just kind of _fell_… and- and I'm not even sure how I _got_ here and-"

The Fire Prince jumped on the opportunity to offer the Water Tribe girl something to do that did not involve expanding on this sob-story. "You washed up on a sand bar. Did you say you fell off the bison?"

The waterbender snapped a reddened, suspicious eye onto him, frowning. "I didn't say where I fell from. I just fell and got separated from the others."

He narrowed his eyes, but accepted this. At least she wasn't blubbering on his shirt anymore. However, Zuko was beginning to wonder whether the Avatar and the Water Tribe oaf would be able to figure out where the girl had gone. If they didn't find the sand bar where he had left the evidence – or if it was washed away before they had the chance – they would not know she was his captive. Then, how could they know to follow him?

It was becoming clear that he would have to take further action. He turned on his heel to march from the brig, but paused when she spoke.

"Um…"

Zuko turned back, posture rigid with no small amount of trepidation. Agni only knew what sort of emotional extreme he was about to experience… "Now what do you want?"

"Hey – I wasn't the one who barged in and-!" The Water Tribe girl shut her eyes and drew a deep breath, forcibly calming herself. When she again settled her steady gaze on him, her mouth drew into a tight line, seeming to rebel against the next words she spoke. "I'll need to talk to the medic, tomorrow."

The Fire Prince looked at her more sharply. "You're injured?"

"No…" Her eyes shot off to one side and, beneath them, her cheeks were reddening again.

Zuko waited for an explanation, but it clearly wasn't coming. With a huff, he crossed his arms again. "Well, if you aren't injured, you have no reason to pester my medic."

As he stalked from the brig, the firebender thought he heard her mutter the word 'jerk,' but he chose to ignore that one; he now had a more important matter to attend to.

He made it into the corridor before the guard's low tone caught him. "Prince Zuko?"

The Fire Prince turned a frown on the cautious soldier. If the waterbender's impertinence was spreading to his crew, he would have to take disciplinary action. "Private Nu. Is there a problem?"

The man stood straight in the doorway with his eyes locked on a distant point, speaking quietly. "Sir, as the father of four teenaged daughters, I only wanted to offer you a word of wisdom… We'll all be a lot happier if you allow the prisoner to talk with the medic."

Zuko settled his hands on his hips. "And why is that, Private?"

The soldier blinked but maintained his otherwise straight face. "She is clearly having woman troubles and will need herbs and other supplies."

"'_Woman troubles_,' Private?" He had no urge to soften the incredulous tone of this question. For one thing, the prisoner was hardly a woman at all and, for another, 'woman troubles' sounded like some sort of made-up phenomenon that would win her whatever little luxuries she wanted.

"Yes, sir," the guard said. "Woman troubles." Under the Prince's annoyed glare, Nu cleared his throat. "I think your esteemed uncle could explain better than I can, sir."

Zuko growled faintly in frustration before snapping, "Fine. Summon the medic in the morning." With that, he strode away down the corridor.

He had a more important matter to attend to.

The Fire Prince made one stop in the munitions room before arriving on the deck. The night was clear, but dark in the absence of the moon. That was good; it would make this tactic more effective.

Zuko set up the little wooden frame containing its projectile and, with a blast of flame, lit the fuse.

The flare shrieked into the sky.

* * *

Katara watched the guard return to his seat by the door without so much as a glance toward her. He began again to shift the tiles around on the table, the picture of calm.

The waterbender fought the urge to burst out in tears of gratitude.

She hadn't heard everything, but Prince Zuko's chronically raised voice had carried those awkward words back to her.

_Woman troubles_.

Was that what they called it in the Fire Nation? It had never really occurred to her that Fire Nation women would go through the same ordeals as Water Tribe women. It had also never occurred to her that an enemy soldier might ever act to help her with such an uncomfortable situation. Yet, there he was, playing his game as if nothing had happened at all.

"Private Nu?" Katara gripped the bars of her cell as she spoke. Her voice came out a little strained, an unpleasant reminder of her diatribe against the Prince. The guard peered up at her, his moustache still limply hanging and his expression one of bland interest. "I… I just want to thank you… for that. It was a very kind thing for you to do."

"It was only my duty according to Fire Nation Protocol." He paused a beat, tone turning a little dry. "…as Prince Zuko attempted to explain before you ignited."

The waterbender frowned, nonplussed. "He's not _my_ prince."

"Clearly." Nu tipped his head back slightly and settled an elbow on the table. "In the Fire Nation, no one would have dared speak to royalty that way. Such disrespect can have very serious repercussions."

Katara heaved a sigh and drew away from the bars, making her way slowly to her bed. "Then maybe he should have stayed in the Fire Nation."

She did not see the guard thoughtfully watching her burrow into her blankets. Her feet were stiff and icy from the steel floor and weariness had built into an unbearable weight in her back and belly.

When the flair sounded, she only opened her eyes long enough to roll them.

_Jerk._

Maybe he could be worse, but there was still a lot of room for improvement.

* * *

AN: So, if you haven't noticed, we're kind of playing the 'how many cliches can we get into one fic' game. I don't know _why_ we're doing this to ourselves, but we are...

Actually, I do know why. I had trouble with this chapter because I was being drawn into heavy culture-clash angst - lots of 'your people are evil' 'well, your people are uncivilized' crap going back and forth. That led to soul-searching, which is boring when compared to Zuko getting 'the talk' from Uncle Iroh. Thus, Katara's berserker blood-lust phase allowed me to bury actual serious arguments and direct changes of opinion on political matters with something more in the spirit of this fic - Zuko's shock at having someone determinedly defy him. If anybody finds this to be out-of-character for any party involved, please let me know - I do like to know.

Also, it pleases me to no end to imagine Sokka seeing his crazed sister give the Fire Prince the dressing-down of a lifetime._ "Oh, you really shouldn't have said _**that**_..."_


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Yeah, the last day before school starts again and I'm in a fanfic frenzy. Not good for me, but maybe good for you? Hope you like this!

* * *

The first gray light of day made the sea look dark, but the rocks at the bottom of the cliff looked so much darker. The boys did not speak as they peered down at the surf bashing against those jagged stones, the remains of a smashed tree, and a very dead platypus-bear.

But no Katara.

After going back for Appa, Aang and Sokka picked through the wreckage all morning and the Water Tribe boy was torn between two terrible hopes; he hoped to find his sister, but he also hoped he would not. There were branches floating everywhere, and the waves hissed and rumbled, threatening to tear the boys from the rocks they perched on. Aang made his impossible leaps from stone to stone, yelling Katara's name over the crash of waves and the thunder of the stream emptying into the ocean.

Sokka fell in. A few times.

The first time, he tried to follow Aang from one rock to another and ended up falling short, soaking his boots – which had only just dried from his wade the previous night.

The second time, he fell in because he was checking under the body of the platypus-bear. He lifted one of its enormous legs to roll it over, but lost his balance and was lucky not to break his back tumbling in the waves.

The third and final time Sokka fell in the water, he was climbing through the tangled branches of the fallen tree and digging through the masses of broken sticks to ensure that Katara wasn't floating beneath them. He lost his grip when he found what looked like a segment from the hem of her tunic, caught in the tight cross of two large branches, and ended up diving again and again into the dark water. It stung his eyes to open them in the brine, but he had to try, had to search.

She wasn't there, though.

He was sitting in Appa's saddle, bruised and shivering and clutching the scrap of cloth in one fist, when Aang settled beside him. For a long while, they were quiet. Then, the monk started talking, his high voice quick with anxiety.

"It's a good sign, though, right? That we haven't found her? If she didn't… If she made it down to here, then she's probably still… Sokka?"

The young warrior watched the sticks that had broken away during his search as they bobbed in the waves like writing that he could not or would not understand. Just when he thought he saw a character he recognized, they shifted and reformed, all steadily making their way further out to sea.

Finally, Sokka tore his gaze from the dreary sight, but he couldn't meet those huge gray eyes for long. He turned back to the sticks and spoke in a low voice. "Wherever she is, she's really, really cold, Aang. If we don't find her soon, she could get too cold."

"But you guys are from the South Pole and it isn't nearly as cold here as it is there!"

"It's cold enough." Sokka's words were low enough that Aang might not have heard them as he scrambled onto Appa's head, but he didn't repeat himself.

"I'll bet she found shelter somewhere and she's waiting for us to come find her, right now. We'll just circle the area and look for a cave or something. Come on, Appa! Yip yip!"

Sokka felt his stomach fall as they heaved up into the sky. He knew he should change into dry clothes to keep from getting too cold, himself, but he hesitated a moment longer, gripping the saddle in a way he hadn't felt the need to in weeks.

* * *

It certainly didn't help Katara's temper when she was awakened just a few hours after dozing off by the distant blasting sounds of the Fire Prince training. For a little while, she tried to hide from the noise by covering her ears and humming an old Water Tribe tune but, when it became clear that she would spend all of her time seething and repeating the same songs over and over, she climbed from her bed and began working through the forms she had learned from the stolen scroll.

Not that she was taking that pompous bully's advice. Oh no, certainly not. She just wanted to be prepared for when the time came for her to display her skills. She hadn't fought very hard on the deck, hadn't used any of the newest tricks she had figured out. Those were going to be a surprise.

Katara hadn't even completed the first set when an elderly man in an odd hat appeared outside of her cell. He set his black leather bag on the floor by his tidy shoe and offered her a perfunctory bow. "Good morning. I am Lu Chi, the ship's medic. Private Nu informed me that you required my attention?"

"I, ah…" The waterbender crossed her arms and frowned hard at the floor, her face warming. She shot a glance toward the guard who had relieved Private Nu and, in a low voice, managed words. "I don't guess he told you what I… what this was regarding, did he?"

Lu Chi blinked at her, his white brows drawing upward slightly. "Oh no, young lady. It is standard operating procedure in the Fire Navy that conscious patients speak directly to their surgeons – otherwise, there is room for miscommunication and, when medical issues are at stake, such inefficiency can lead to deterioration of a situation." He smiled and the skin around his mouth stretched into a tidy set of wrinkles. "I would not wish your condition to worsen, whatever it may be."

Katara, a bit stunned, could only nod.

The medic peered at her, politely waiting.

"Oh! Uh…" With a swallow and another glance at the new guard – who did not seem to be paying any attention at all – the Water Tribe girl forced out that awkward phrase. "I am… or, I'm about to… experience… 'woman troubles.'"

Those white eyebrows hopped up Lu Chi's forehead briefly. "Ah, poor child! That is a predicament! I am not adequately prepared for such a situation, being as this crew is entirely male…" He began digging through his leather bag. "…but I am quite certain that I will have something that could be- Ah hah!" With a smile, he withdrew a tiny brown glass bottle of liquid.

"What… what's that?"

"It is a refined compound derived from the bark of willow-birch trees. I will add three drops to a tea for you to drink when you are feeling discomfort and, with luck, it will ease you. As for your other – hem! – symptoms, I will ensure that you are provided with clean cloths and, er…" He glanced around her cell. "…perhaps a screen for your privacy, if one could be found. I believe General Iroh has something of that nature, though I seem to recall-"

Katara watched the odd man go on, trying to remind herself that he was Fire Nation, and therefore her enemy. There was something about his fussiness and genuine concern for her wellbeing that made him very difficult to not like, in spite of his long sideburns and amber eyes. So the waterbender smiled at him as he took his leave, promising to return with her supplies within the hour.

Once he had gone, she stood still for a long moment, frowning, before going back to the form she had been practicing.

* * *

"Would you care for some breakfast, Prince Zuko?" Iroh held out a bowl of some pasty substance and gave one of his squinty smiles. "It is jook with the last of the spark fruit and, I must say, the cook has become most creative in his use of exciting filler substances!"

The Fire Prince, still panting from his training, peered into the bowl and wrinkled his nose. "Why does it smell like seaweed?"

The old man held up a finger. "As I said, _most creative_."

Zuko's lips twitched into a frown as he took the bowl and, very slowly, raised the spoon to his mouth.

"We are lucky to have such an innovative cook aboard this vessel!" Iroh tugged the tuft of his beard. "I do wish he could have left out the hack-fish roe, but I suppose there is no cause to complain about extra protein when food is scarce…"

As soon as the fishy, fruity goo hit Zuko's tongue, his stomach rebelled. The stuff was foul beyond anything he had ever tasted before and he immediately whirled to spit over the side of the ship. He turned then on his uncle with a glare, holding out the bowl at arm's length. "I've had enough."

The old man blinked, expression concerned. "But, Nephew, you have hardly eaten at all! The body cannot function without fuel. Surely you can take just one more bite?" He peered off to one side, brows riding high. "Or, perhaps you intend to make port to replenish the ship's stores with more nourishing-?"

"Alright!" Zuko's good eye bulged. "Tell the captain to chart a course for the next port – just take this… filth away from me!" He gave the bowl a little shake and Iroh, looking thrilled, accepted it.

"Right away, Prince Zuko!"

With that, the old firebender hurried off. Zuko scowled after him for a moment before working his mouth to remove the foul taste. He hated losing his head start against the Avatar but, if the Water Tribe girl had been truthful about her friends not being able to find her, then a delay might be just what was needed.

He turned his sour glare to the ocean and spat again, but the flavor lingered. It was remarkably akin to his talk with the waterbender. Even now, after a nearly-sleepless night and over an hour of physical exertion, her words – and her wild blue eyes – still clung to his mind.

Zuko spat again and stalked off the deck.

* * *

Even though the booming sounds had ceased to come, Katara shifted her weight through the stances. She hadn't practiced these moves without water before and doing so now was strange – like rowing a landed canoe or swimming in air. There was no resistance, no pressure, and the waterbender found herself focusing more on where her feet were and the distribution of her weight.

"I see my nephew's obsession is catching."

Katara whirled to find Iroh standing outside the bars of her cell with a bowl of something steaming in one hand. She crossed her arms, scowling. "You think this is about him? It's not about him!"

The old firebender peered at her blandly. "Of course not."

Katara, realizing her rudeness, ducked her head and murmured a brief apology. "I had intended to thank you for your generosity…" She cast a glance over her shoulder at the painted paper screen standing near the back wall of her cell. "I'll make sure that it gets back to you in the same condition."

"Be sure that you do." Iroh's face split into a sudden, intense grin. "I got it for a great bargain, but I haggled with the lovely lady selling it for the better part of an hour. Truly, an hour that I would rather not forget!"

The tone of the man's voice seemed to suggest that more than haggling had gone on in that hour. Katara's right eye twitched of its own volition.

Iroh, still smiling, slipped the bowl through the bars to her. "I have taken the liberty of bringing you something to eat. I hope you will be more accepting of the needs of your body than other unnamed young people have been, today."

The waterbender sensed a challenge. Prince Zuko wouldn't eat this food, huh? This food wasn't _good enough_ for _Prince_ Zuko, huh?

"Oh, thank you!" Katara pasted an enormous smile on her face and took the bowl… and then blinked down at its contents. "Is this some sort of Fire Nation cuisine?"

"Sadly, no. It is something the ship cook has named 'the gruel of desperation.'" Iroh scratched his chin, frowning off to one side. "Or was it 'the death of good taste?' He seems to develop a flair for the dramatic whenever the time comes to restock our supplies."

Katara sniffed at the pasty substance and glanced up at the firebender. "It, um… looks great." She lifted the spoon slowly to her mouth and, in the second of hesitation before taking the first bite, said, "So… I guess this means we'll be stopping sometime soon?"

As the waterbender stuck the spoon into her mouth, she almost didn't hear Iroh's reply. The taste was… very distracting. "Yes, the navigator expects that we will reach a port in two days' time. Katara?"

Slowly, she withdrew the spoon from her mouth and dug it back into the alleged food. It was almost as bad as Sokka's cooking – almost, so she was still able to force a smile and raise the spoon again. _Prince _Zuko probably didn't take a second bite. "Do I detect seaweed and… a hint of citrus?"

Iroh blinked and smiled broadly. "Why yes! If I may ask, how does such a young lady come by so seasoned a palate?"

"Well… I guess my friends and I are pretty familiar with the gruel of desperation, by now." She shrugged, drew a deep breath, and forced herself to swallow another mouthful of the stuff. Actually, despite the taste, it was hot and it filled her belly. Thinking of Sokka and Aang, Katara realized that the extent of her emptiness went beyond her stomach, but it soothed her to ease the physical ache, at least. She took another bite.

The old man was watching her with something like compassion. "It is tragic that you and your brother have suffered this way. The young should not be so well-acquainted with hunger."

Katara frowned at him and stirred her food. "Aang is only twelve, you know. I may be young, but he's just a kid."

Iroh nodded. "The Avatar has a difficult path ahead of him. He is lucky to have such devoted friends."

She smiled down at her loaded spoon. "I don't know if I'd call it luck. My Gran-Gran always says you have to be a friend to have friends. Aang's really good at being a friend." She darted the next bite into her mouth, as if speed would make it less unpleasant-tasting – hungry or not, she wasn't so sure she could manage another.

Iroh's bearded chin dipped a bit and he peered at her with slightly narrowed eyes as if she was a distant figure he was trying to identify. "There are some who do not entirely understand how to be friends."

The waterbender swallowed and frowned thoughtfully. "You're talking about Zuko, aren't you?"

"Oh, no!" He held his hands out in front of him and peered off at a corner of the ceiling. "I am merely offering up a hypothetical scenario."

Katara blinked dryly. "Yeah, well, _hypothetically_, there are some people who think of only their own selfish quests for honor when, all around them, others are suffering. I'm afraid, hypothetically, that that's a problem that goes a bit deeper than just not knowing how to play nice." She held out the half-empty bowl to him.

Iroh bowed his head slightly and accepted the burden. He peered into the bowl for a silent second, then spoke softly. "There are those who suffer in plain sight, Master Katara, but there are also those who suffer in private. For all that it may not excuse our actions, we all have reasons for doing the things that we do."

With that, he strode away, leaving the waterbender to frown after him. After he had disappeared through the door, she began again to move her weight through the few stances that she knew, only to be interrupted as he stuck his head back into the brig.

"Out of curiosity, Master Katara… do you play the tsungi horn?"

* * *

"Aang, it's time to eat something."

Sokka did not look up from digging through the saddle bags when he spoke. The boys had spent all afternoon separated, both flying low around the island's beaches and searching for some sign. Footprints, broken bushes along the tree line. They found nothing. As the sun began setting, they sat on the bison at the top of the cliff and for a long while they did not speak.

Presently, Sokka's gut was telling him more about how hungry he was than about where Katara might have gone. They had not stopped long enough to eat all day. He pulled out a pair of apples and crawled to the front of the saddle.

Aang wouldn't look at him. The airbender just sat on Appa's head, staring off toward the sunset. He gripped his glider in both hands and, beside him, Momo curled with his enormous ears flat to his head.

"She's still alive," Aang said. "I can feel it."

"Come on, Aang. You need to eat this."

They ate their apples in tiny, chipping bites and Sokka looked past Aang toward the shimmering sea. Late last night, a signal flare had gone up to the west and slightly south, a Fire Nation rocket. Sokka hadn't thought much about it, except to worry that Zhao or Zuko might have somehow picked up their trail again. There had been no other sign of the Fire Nation, though, and Sokka had almost forgotten seeing the flare at all.

He peered far below at the wreckage of the tree. The tide had gone out, leaving the skeletal trunk and many shattered limbs exposed. The tangle of small sticks had been taken, sucked out with the tide. Sokka looked for them on the shining water but did not see anything but waves. Finally, he spotted the shadowy mass, far off to the west and slightly south.

Sokka remembered the flare, then, and his gut twisted. He practically fell forward making a grab for the reins. Aang hunched around his apple almost like Momo protecting a berry. "Ow, hey!"

"I know where she went! Yip yip! Yip yip!"

Aang tossed the remaining half of his apple away and joined him in shaking the reins. "Yip yip, Appa!" The bison bellowed and launched them out over the sea.

"Follow the sticks," Sokka said, pointing. "There's a current taking them out!"

* * *

Zuko spent most of his free time that day searching the sky to the east and north, though his mind was not as completely bent on the Avatar as it usually was. In the afternoon, Iroh convinced him to come out of the cold and they sat together at the low table in his uncle's room, sharing a quiet cup of tea. Finally, after the silence had stretched on for a healthy length of time, Zuko posed the question in what he hoped was a casual voice.

"Uncle… How much do you know about the Water Tribe?"

Iroh's eyes flicked up to the Fire Prince. "Not very much, I am afraid. I was stationed in the Earth Kingdom as a general, but I do know some things about our elemental opposites." He raised his teacup to hover before his lips as the silence began to build again. "What's on your mind?"

Zuko frowned down at his tea, which sat untouched in the space between his fists, and thought about the ramshackle village at the South Pole. He considered the question presently brewing in his mind to be dangerous. In fact, Zuko tended to avoid questions altogether because he could sense that so many of them had answers he would not like. Nothing could have destroyed Zuko's hope more thoroughly than asking questions that began with 'why.'

So, when he opened his mouth and spoke the question, it was not the one he had initially had in mind. "What are 'woman troubles?'"

Iroh choked on his tea and coughed into his fist until his face turned red. Zuko watched him closely, noticing that some of those coughs were more like laughter than actual distress. The Fire Prince's mouth pulled down into a fierce frown.

"Ahem – excuse me," Iroh said at last, patting down his belly. "I hope you are not under the impression that only women of the Water Tribe undergo this phenomenon, Nephew. It is very much universal."

"Fine, but what is it?"

"You see, Prince Zuko, women…" Iroh gazed up at a corner of the ceiling, tugging his beard in thought. "It is a little bit like the moon. The moon goes through its cycle once every month, swelling bigger and bigger each night." The old man held up his hands before him, gesturing as if he held the swelling moon in his thick fingers. "When it is at its fullest, the moon looks ripe and ready to burst. Only then does it begin to wane. This is similar to the way in which women cycle."

Zuko stared at his uncle, at once skeptical and appalled. "They… swell?" In his mind was a vision of the waterbender growing rounder and rounder, fattening like a small blue moon. She continued lecturing him as if it was not even happening. He cut off the old man's thoughtful response to ask, "Does it affect their minds, Uncle?"

Iroh tipped his head to one side and frowned. "Their moods, yes. Sometimes. Just as the full moon becomes so much brighter than a crescent, many women's emotions become more intense than is comfortable. The wrong words can make them cranky or push them to tears. But this should not change the way a man treats a woman, Nephew. It is always important to be considerate to ladies."

Zuko very nearly rolled his eyes. "Yes, Uncle. You've told me that already."

"I just hope you will keep it in mind. There is no reason to alienate Katara more than is necessary. I'm sure she feels quite vulnerable as it is."

The Fire Prince stared at Iroh as the old man sipped his tea. "She's an enemy of the Fire Nation, Uncle. Not a houseguest."

"Sometimes," Iroh said, "the people we think are our enemies only become our enemies because that is how we treat them."

"Have you forgotten what she did on that earthbender prison rig? She's a rabble-rouser. And a thief."

Iroh shrugged. "Yeah, but only to pirates. Must I remind you that you yourself threatened to destroy their property if they did not cooperate?"

"That's different. They refused to obey me. As a prince of the Fire Nation, I had to keep them in line for the sake of my mission."

His uncle watched him for a moment, then poured himself another cup of tea. Iroh even poured more into Zuko's cup, though he had not yet touched it. The liquid rippled at the cup's very brim. "The Southern Water Tribe has never liked the concept of royalty, Prince Zuko. The chieftain lives just as his people do – or he did before going to war, as I understand it. There is a possibility that Katara and her brother are the children of that chieftain." Iroh settled the teapot back on the table and leveled his gaze on Zuko. "If this is true, then their position in their society is comparable to yours, Prince Zuko."

The Fire Prince laughed aloud at that. It was a hard sound, though he did not realize it. "Society? That's absurd, Uncle. They sleep in tents and wear animal skins. There's nothing royal about them."

"You are right, of course," Iroh said, smiling into his teacup. "A silly thought for a silly situation. I mean, what are the chances of two brave, stubborn teenagers living in that defeated village at the time of the Avatar's return?"

He laughed, but Zuko sat silently and frowned even harder at his tea.

"Would you care for a little cake, Prince Zuko?"

The young man straightened at that. "How is it we have cake if we're running out of food?"

"Cake is not actually food, Prince Zuko," Iroh said as he opened a lacquered box to reveal a few tiny finger-cakes. "It is important that a ruler remembers this."

"I don't have time for this," Zuko said as he climbed to his feet. He paused before turning away and bowed shortly. "Thank you for answering my question, Uncle."

"You are welcome," Iroh said, smiling. It was only after his nephew stalked out of the room that he puffed out a sigh of relief and closed his eyes over his tea.

He had heard from Private Nu, who was an exceptional flutist, about Zuko's visit to the brig the previous night and should have expected a question of this nature at some point, but it had been a long time since his nephew had expressed interest in anything other than capturing the Avatar. In a way, Iroh was relieved.

On the other hand, he had the feeling that his incomplete answer to that uncomfortable question was going to come back to bite him.

* * *

It was almost dark when they reached the sandbar. Sticks were scattered across the tiny island where the high tide had dragged them in and, receding, abandoned them.

"Oh man," Sokka said as Appa swooped in to land. There was hardly space for him, the sandbar was so small. "If we had passed during high tide, we never would have known this was here."

But Aang had already leapt to the ground and was staring at the tall stick that was unlike any of the others, a stick straight as a spear shaft that had been stabbed into the ground like a standard. Sokka scrambled off the saddle and hurried to catch up.

When he got close enough, he realized it _was_ a spear shaft, complete with the tight, oiled-leather grip common to Fire Nation spears. It stood at an angle, probably knocked around by the tide, but it was the strip of fabric tied to the top that really drew Sokka's attention. He didn't need his flipping gut anymore, but it went on and on.

"Oh no," Aang was saying. "No." Sokka could see the stripe tattooed down the back of his head begin to glow, but he wasn't really paying attention, didn't really see the danger.

Tied around the end of the spear was a strip of the same material he had found caught in the tree, fabric torn from the hem of Katara's parka.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Thank you to all of you generous reviewers!

I am permitting myself one day a week to write this story and, let me tell you, that's a hard discipline to stick with! I hope you all enjoy this!

* * *

As Zuko sat with his uncle for dinner – a sad excuse for a meal, in his opinion – he tried to listen to whatever it was the old man was talking about. Something about red fall leaves and the continuation of life with the rise of the next year.

"It is interesting that so much in nature can boil down to the completion of a circle, isn't it, Prince Zuko?"

Zuko picked at his rice, extricating the tiny black dots that were actually beetles and gathering them on the rim of his bowl. Without them, the rice almost looked fluffy as snow. "Yes, Uncle. Interesting."

Iroh went on, but Zuko was no longer listening. He was thinking, for some reason, about the Water Tribe girl. He wondered whether she had swollen visibly since the previous night, whether she might be easier to reason with now that she had seen the medic.

Placing a bite of debugged rice into his mouth, he resolved to check in on her before bed. No, that was not the proper way to phrase it. Even if, by some small chance, she was the daughter of a chieftain, she was still a peasant and a war prisoner. He would not 'check in' on her. He would 'double check security' and 'ensure her humane treatment.' That was more appropriate.

"…and so the falling of the leaves is a key part of the cycle of fertility. Do you understand what I'm saying, Prince Zuko?"

Iroh was peering at him with bright, hooded eyes and a stifled smile. It was the sort of look he used when he talked about haggling with that old woman over that stupid painted screen. Zuko had no idea how or when his uncle had combined the topics of trees, seasons, and women, and really did not want to find out.

"Yes. That's all- fascinating." As always when he lied, his voice was stilted.

Iroh's almost-smile faded. "Do not let it disturb you, Nephew. It is only nature."

"Of course. Nature." Zuko scooped up the last of his rice in an over-large bite and swallowed before chewing properly. "I'm going to bed. Good night, Uncle."

"Good night, Prince Zuko."

He bowed and left the room, the old General's measuring gaze still on him. The halls below were empty, this being the dinner hour, and he encountered no one on his way to the brig. Private Jing was on duty and stood rapidly from his station when he recognized the Prince. Zuko passed him without comment and proceeded directly to the Water Tribe girl's cell.

He slowed when he spotted her. At first, he didn't recognize what she was doing. She shifted her weight back and forth, her arms slicing smoothly through the air, around her head. It was graceful and tranquil and utterly unlike firebending, so it was with total shock that Zuko recognized the water whip position.

"You're bending," he said.

The Water Tribe girl jumped about a foot in the air and spun to face him in a ready stance. Zuko tensed, but there was no water coming at him and, with nothing to block, he relaxed. The girl crossed her arms over her chest and cast a challenging look at him. "What am I supposed to bend in here, exactly?"

Zuko narrowed his eyes at her. There was something in her tone that made him suspicious, but he couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was. Her hair was free from its bun and braid in preparation for sleep and it had puffed out behind her in a brown cloud. She was back in her own clothes, he noticed, though he thought he saw his shirt rumpled on the foot of the bed. He couldn't say why that seemed important.

"What do you want?" she asked.

Her tone was outwardly annoyed but also a little wary. Zuko frowned and bit back a retort. "I wanted to be sure that you had whatever it is that you need," he said in the chilliest voice he could summon.

The waterbender stared at him, obviously shocked. Her face got very red and she looked away. "Yes. Thank you."

Zuko blinked and his frown faltered. He had never heard her say anything so polite before. It made him uncomfortable, as if he had stepped into a ballroom when he had been preparing for a battlefield.

He realized that he had been too quiet for too long and, for some reason not yet willing to go, spotted the empty bowl and teacup on the floor just outside the cell. "I see you have already had dinner. How were the bugs? Er, rice, I mean."

The Water Tribe girl looked back at him, wide-eyed. "The little black things were bugs? I thought they were some kind of weird seeds."

"Uh."

"You fed me bugs on purpose!"

"Well it's not like you people aren't used to eating weird stuff, anyway."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Zuko crossed his arms and curled his lip in disdain. "I've traveled all over the world. Nobody but the Water Tribe sucks on frogs."

"Oh, well, since you know so much about the Water Tribe, how about you tell me where we find frogs in the South Pole." She gave him an infuriating little smirk and settled her hands on her hips. "How about it, smart guy?"

"That doesn't mean anything. You probably have them imported."

"Yeah, trade's really booming this year!"

* * *

"Aang! Calm down! We'll find Katar-aaugh!"

Sokka hurtled away from the sand bar with the force of the Avatar's explosion. He flailed his arms as if in hopes of taking flight, but still crashed face-first into the chilly ocean. Resurfacing, he spat saltwater and touched his cheek where a red mark was already forming from the impact.

Sokka turned in the water and watched Aang rise into the air, his eyes and tattoos glowing ominously in the twilight and his expression furious. All around the sand bar, the water pushed back, back into towering walls. The gritty sea bed was revealed, studded with sticks and shells and, in deeper places, jagged reefs.

Sokka was sucked along with the water though he paddled wildly with his arms and legs to get back to the sand bar. When the reefs became visible below him, sharp enough to kill, he changed directions and frantically tried to swim up the wall of water to get away. But there was no getting away.

The water formed a vast cylinder around Aang where he still slowly rose. Down on the sand, Appa covered his face with his big paws, even his mass sliding in the wind radiating out from Aang. Momo clung to the saddle. Sokka screamed and choked on a mouthful of water. If this kept up, he could very well drown. He shouted again.

"We'll find Katara, Aang!"

But the Avatar was oblivious. He finally ascended above the level of the water and, with a crack of air, shot away to the west.

For a moment, the walls of water stood. Sokka watched as if in slow motion as Appa surged off the ground and heaved toward him, toward safety. He reached out for the bison, felt the wind and smelled wet fur.

Then, the walls collapsed.

* * *

Katara took a deep breath and bit back the urge to verbally thrash the Fire Nation for all of its many sins. Again. It was certainly annoying that Zuko would be petty enough to slip bugs into her food and it was certainly odd that he would look so on-the-spot after letting it slip, but she wouldn't fall into his mind games. She wouldn't let herself get worked up like last night. And she certainly wouldn't let him see her cry again.

Instead, Katara held her head high and met his scowl with a calm expression. "Thank you for checking in on me. I'd like to go to sleep now."

"I'm not _checking in_ and you can't dismiss me," he snapped. Then, he shot her an assessing sort of look. "You are awfully bossy for a peasant. Are you the chieftain's daughter in your village?"

Katara's eyes widened. Did they want to use her as bait to lure in her father as well? "No."

The Fire Prince narrowed his yellow eyes. "You're lying," he said. "Why are you lying?"

Katara shut her mouth firmly and met his gaze without flinching.

"Why would you hide your birthright?"

She crossed her arms over her chest and otherwise did not move.

"You could receive better treatment in most Fire Nation prisons if you were known as a sort of nobility," he said.

Katara could not restrain her scoff and looked away, though not quickly enough to miss Zuko's good eye widening with realization.

"No, that would chafe for a Water Tribe leader, wouldn't it? You would rather wallow in prison with your people than represent them with dignity."

This had not really occurred to her, but it had an uncomfortable ring of truth to it. Katara turned away and walked across her cell to sit on her bed. She did not quite make it. When she spun to sit, she found the Fire Prince staring very obviously at her body.

Her mind flashed immediately to that moment in his bed when he had stared down between her legs, his yellow eyes caught somewhere between realizing and suddenly wanting. Again, she was a little frightened – and again a little warm about the collar.

Katara's voice came out shrill. "What are you looking at?"

"I wasn't. Nothing."

"You were. You were looking at my butt."

"I- Don't flatter yourself!"

Katara uncrossed her arms and marched across the cell to stand near the bars, not so far away from him. His good cheek was a little pink and he seemed almost surprised that she would suddenly be so close. "Whatever you're thinking, don't even think about it," she said. "You sent your chummy uncle down here to convince me that you're human and now you want to just swoop in and make eyes at me and win me over to your cause? I've met charming monsters, Zuko, and you've only got the 'monster' part down."

He stared at her as if she had stabbed him in the chest and his left hand jerked toward his face, then lowered. Katara didn't feel guilty, not really. She hadn't meant to insult his looks exactly but that didn't mean he didn't deserve to hurt. An instant later, the pain was gone from his expression and only fury remained.

"You don't know anything about me. You're just a jumped-up savage with water in your ears who got an easy ride with a fairy tale. If I look twice at you it's because you're so lucky."

"Lucky?" Katara choked on the word. Behind it, all of the things she hadn't mentioned the night before built up in her chest, the pressure enormous as suffocation. Her father, her mother, the struggle of being the positive face of her family and thereby her entire people.

But Katara swallowed and drew a great breath. She wouldn't show him those things that were hardest to bear. She had shared it all with Jet and then she had fallen into his trap. She wouldn't make that mistake twice, certainly not with a boy who was already her enemy.

The Fire Prince was still watching her, his arms still crossed over his chest. He wore a sort of coat that fastened at the neck, with wide sleeves that had hitched up his forearms. Against his wrist, Katara could see the shock of blue, the white disk. Her mother's necklace. She didn't demand it, only stared at it and buried the urge to touch that smooth carving.

"Yeah," she said, stepping back. She met his hard yellow eyes one last time and her mouth pinched. "I guess you wouldn't know what it's like to be lucky like me."

With that, Katara turned and climbed into her bed, covering even her head with the blanket. For a moment, she was very aware of the Fire Prince scowling and watching her. Then, with a disgusted huff, he marched out of the brig.

Katara shut her eyes and thought of Sokka and Aang, trying to picture them safe and asleep and forcibly not asking herself whether they would be able to find her.

* * *

As the waves finally settled down, Sokka floated on his back, scowling at the night sky and cursing through his teeth. Pain lanced up from the gash the reef had torn above his knee. Even an exploratory prod of the wound was agonizing. It wasn't broken, but the blood came heavily. He could feel it, warm against his fingers in the chilly water.

Gracelessly, Sokka kicked his good leg and paddled with one arm toward the sandbar. He hadn't gone far when a small wave lapped over him. His head bobbed beneath the surface and he came up sputtering, but his grasping hand found fur. Something huge and shaggy and warm.

Sokka pulled himself close to the bison's side and, finally steady, took a few solid breaths. "Appa, I've never been happier to smell you, buddy."

The bison groaned and the sound came bubbling up from his submerged mouth. Sokka felt a tugging on his wolf-tail and peered up to find Momo pulling him up toward the saddle. The lemur chirped and tipped his head to one side.

"Yeah, you get started," Sokka said, still panting. He dropped his face back against Appa's side. "I'll catch up."

Momo went on with his tugging. He had gotten a firm grip on Sokka's wolf-tail and was trying to take flight, wings flapping wildly. Sokka only groaned into the wet fur. His leg was aching so badly that he didn't think he would be able to climb up at all.

He could feel something big shift in the water beneath him but was still surprised when the bison lifted one huge leg, raising Sokka up so that he could climb more easily.

"Really, Appa?" Sokka dragged himself a little closer to the saddle, finally managing to get his fingers on the firm rim. "All these weeks of climbing up and climbing down, when you could have been helping?" With Momo still dragging him by the hair, he flopped over into the bed of the saddle with a little cry. "Where's the love?" Sokka asked, face pressed into the padding.

Appa groaned and Momo, chattering, settled on the front of the saddle. With much yelping and wallowing, Sokka made his way to the bags and dug out a roll of bandage.

It was fully dark by then and hard to see. Still, when Sokka cut up the leg of his pants and peeled the blood-soaked fabric away, he could feel that the wound was still oozing. He wrapped the bandage firmly, the way his father had taught him all those years ago.

"Direct pressure, Momo." Sokka gritted his teeth and tightened the bandage as it darkened. "Gotta- Gotta stop the bleeding first. Woah. Tell Appa to stop spinning. That is definitely not helpful."

He did not really notice Momo turning and chattering at Appa's head. Nor did the bison's huge sigh really register. Sokka sloppily tied off the knot and dragged a sleeping bag over himself, falling back in the saddle.

"Elevation!" he said, kicking his leg onto the rim of the saddle with a yelp. "Elevation, and staying warm… and maybe conscious. I don't actually remember that part."

Momo landed on top of the sleeping bag, purring and tilting his head. Sokka gazed up at him, just his face and fingers poking out from under the sleeping bag.

"Momo, listen carefully. I'm probably going to pass out. Until either I wake up or Aang comes back, you're responsible for our safety. Mine and Appa's. And yours." His eyes drifted shut and he held up one finger in a final proclamation. "Until further notice, it's your responsibility to find Katara. And a real go-getter would defeat the Fire Lord, too."

Then, Sokka passed out. Momo flicked his ears and blinked his huge green eyes, then flew to Appa's head. The lemur chattered. The bison groaned and, with a flip of his enormous paddle-tail, surged out of the water.

* * *

Zuko sat before the candle-laden altar in his quarters, breathing steadily and trying to clear his mind.

Katara was in his head, though, and he couldn't find his center. Behind closed eyes he could see her, all righteous fury and bushy brown hair. The way she had moved in her practice, the easy back and forth of her body, the balance and calm.

She really was a leader amongst her people, just as his uncle had suggested. However Zuko outwardly resisted Iroh's suggestions, the confirmation of this fact changed the way he thought of the Water Tribe girl.

Katara was a peer. The daughter of an enemy nation perhaps, but still a peer. And she had called him a monster. To his face. Because she had caught him looking at her butt.

She had not looked at all swollen from behind. Not in a bad way, anyway. That is…

"So stupid." Zuko raised his hands to rub his face but immediately dropped them to his lap, disgusted by the feel of the scar.

Of course she was furious. He had been eye-balling her like a piece of komodo-chicken. Him. Maybe handsome men could get away with ogling women, but Zuko was not handsome. He was in exile and he wore his shame on his face for the world to see.

Katara had reacted like any woman would, or should, and he had made a fool of himself, slinging petty insults at her in a fit of temper. They had only rolled off of her like her own element would, all but that one word, lucky.

He had seen it in her face, the rage and pain and hate she had thrown at him the previous night. He had seen it and he had seen her swallow it and look at the necklace tied around his wrist and force out that last, almost-civil comment.

_I guess you wouldn't know what it's like to be lucky like me._

Whatever that was supposed to mean.

Zuko looked at the necklace, fingering the smoothly-carved disk. It was not bone as he had initially thought, but ivory, and it had that deep glow of a much-handled piece. It was an heirloom. What had she called it those weeks ago? When he had tied her to the tree and waved it in front of her face…

Her voice came back to him, shocked and just a little sad. _My mother's necklace!_

A mother who didn't wear the necklace anymore. A mother who hadn't been there at the South Pole, stepping forward as the matriarch of her people. A mother who was gone.

Zuko frowned at the little disc. It felt almost warm in his fingers. All of the licks of flame on the altar shivered, the wax oozing down the candles quicker than it should have.

In one swift motion, Zuko slipped the necklace from his wrist and dropped it on the altar, away from his skin. For a long while after that he could only stare at it. It seemed so bright and cool against the red and black of his room.

How unnerving that such a thing could feel warm to his touch.

* * *

Far to the north and west of the Fire Prince's steamer and far to the west of the sandbar where Appa and Momo had collected Sokka hours before, a small fleet of steel vessels patrolled the reaches of Fire Nation waters. Private Hong, stationed as lookout on the lead vessel, stood on the observation deck clutching his spy glass with shaking fingers and staring at a quickly-approaching ball of light.

He was supposed to ring the alarm bell the instant he saw something out of order, but he had had this dream last week about a ball of light that had come across the ocean and eaten him. Private Hong stood paralyzed for a moment longer than he should have before scrambling to the bell and sounding the alarm.

Not that an earlier warning would have stopped what came next.

The Avatar approached, air and water swirling around him in a huge globe, and hovered before the control room of the lead ship. Private Hong, still on the observation deck, pressed his back against the windows and held very still.

"Where is Katara?" the Avatar asked in an ageless voice. His glowing eyes were twisted in his fury.

The helmsman screamed and hid behind a control panel. A few technicians dove down the hatch to relative safety. Private Hong shut his eyes and stopped breathing.

Aang descended to hover over the lower deck. With huge sweeps of his arms, he called up blades of water and sliced the steel as if it was paper. A blast of wind and the deck curled up like an opened tin of sardines. Fire Nation soldiers fled from room to room but there was no safe place to go. The next deck came up in pieces. Then there was a pop and a whoosh as the pressurized compartment in the belly of the ship was ruptured. The hulking steel vessel began to sink.

The Avatar stared down at the scrambling people – none of whom were Katara – until a fireball came whizzing past him. He spun in the air and immediately spotted the firebender, a half-dressed soldier standing alone on the deck of the next ship. Under the Avatar's pitiless gaze, the firebender turned and ran for the lower decks.

Aang swooped in to take the deck off of that ship next.

Back on the observation deck of the first ship, Private Hong eased away from the window and back onto his shaking legs. Or perhaps it was the ship that was shaking as it sunk. Hong was unsure.

The Avatar had looked right at him and hadn't eaten him. His dream had not come true. As the screeching sounds of metal being rent apart rose up to overwhelm the screams of his shipmates, Hong took a deep breath and patted down his chest with both hands. Still alive.

But the Avatar was destroying the entire unit and they would probably all be sunk in short order.

Private Hong dashed through the control room, shoved the helmsman aside, and rushed to the communication station. In their cage, the messenger hawks were anxious. They shrieked and fluttered, hopping from bar to bar like huge finches.

Hong couldn't bear to think of all the hawks drowning when the ship went down. He threw open the cage doors and the birds came out in a panicky rush. They flew around the control room for a moment, wild with fear, until they found the open door and, one by one, swooped out into the night. Private Hong watched them go and let out a sigh of relief.

"You idiot!" shouted the helmsman. He surged to his feet, scowling. "How are we supposed to call for help when all the hawks are gone?"

Hong blinked and looked around. "Oh, well, there's one left."

Indeed, there was an older bird still perched on one bar. Even as Private Hong watched, the hawk spread its wings in preparation for flight.

"Don't let it go!"

Private Hong made a grab for the bird and managed to catch it by its sharp talons. The hawk gave a piercing cry, then settled on Hong's arm, ruffling its wings as if to regain some dignity.

The helmsman stomped across the empty control room and shouldered past the private. He snatched up some parchment, scribbled a note, and then shoved it into the hawk's tube.

"It will go straight to the Admiral," the helmsman said as he took the bird onto his own forearm.

Private Hong winced, then prodded his bleeding wrist. "Does it have to go straight to the Admiral?"

The helmsman shot him a scathing look and pointed at the insignia on the hawk's message tube. "Since the only bird remaining only travels to the northern Earth Kingdom outpost and that is where he is, yes." His eyes narrowed. "And you can be sure that Admiral Zhao will hear of your incompetence and bumbling sabotage."

Private Hong gulped and watched through the window as the other man stomped out the door and hurled the old hawk into the air. It winged off to the east and soon vanished from sight. Shortly thereafter, the sounds of twisting steel stopped and the Avatar shot off across the sea the way he had come.

"Well," Private Hong said, rubbing the back of his neck. "That's a relief."

The helmsman turned to scowl at him and opened his mouth to speak. Then, the deck began to tip as the ship listed hard to port.

* * *

Momo, of course, did not speak human. There were things he understood about humans, and about life in general, but Sokka's instructions were not among those things. He had no idea that he was supposed to rescue Katara and defeat the Fire Lord. If he had, perhaps he would not have been so calm as he flew next to Appa, following the bison to whatever destination was ahead.

Appa had a better grasp of humans than Momo did. He understood that Katara was lost and this was very bad, and that Sokka was injured and needed help right away. He also understood that Aang would come back and find them if they stayed in the area.

But even though he knew these things, Appa was too anxious to stay and wait. He huffed deep in his belly from time to time and flew west, the direction Aang had gone. His little human friend was much faster than he was, though, and had been out of sight almost immediately after he left.

Hours passed and the sun rose behind them. Appa was flying low over the sea, weary from two consecutive sleepless nights. Bleary-eyed, it was no wonder he didn't notice the little island as he flew past it.

It was a very small island, with little vegetation and a lot of rocks and, on the far side, hidden behind an outcropping of boulders, Aang. He had collapsed on the stony beach after his encounter with the Fire Nation ships. Perhaps it was the distant groaning of the bison that roused him, but he did not remember it as his eyes opened.

"Uugh." Aang sat up, rubbing his back and his head at the same time. He squinted out at the wide, empty ocean, then looked around at the rocks surrounding him. "Where am I? Katara?"

The memory rushed back to him, then. Katara had been captured by the Fire Nation. He had gone into the Avatar State and left Sokka, Appa, and Momo to go look for her. And…

"Oh no." Aang hugged his knees and buried his face against them. "I destroyed all of those ships. All those people… They could have drowned or frozen or gotten trapped in the wreckage."

In his guilty despair, Aang did not even spare a moment to realize that he was stuck on that island without his glider, that an air scooter could only get him so far, or that he could only run on water for so long before even he grew exhausted. No, Aang sat on that stony beach, furious and miserable because he had hurt people and, worse, he had once again abandoned the people he cared about.

* * *

AN: Poor Sokka. I wouldn't do these things to him but, you know, he's like a bad-luck magnet. :)

Also, I threw in an OC to make things more funner. (Ch-ch-changes, man. They're good for us.) Private Hong will be reappearing in later chapters. Honestly, I'm loving these perspective shifts. HMPB was all either Zuko or Katara but this story feels a lot more open with all these different sub-stories sprouting up.


	6. Chapter 6

Katara was having a small breakthrough.

After picking the bugs out of her morning rice, she had returned to practicing her forms with renewed fervor. Never mind Iroh smiling apologetically and saying he didn't care for the taste of beetles, either. Never mind that she had wrongfully accused Zuko of spoiling her food when he was eating the same thing and never mind that he had abstained from rubbing that in her face last night. Never mind that she had awakened with the Fire Prince's shirt wrinkling in her grip. (It was silk, that was all. It felt soft against her fingers. And her face. That was all.)

And, most of all, never mind that those distant blasting sounds had not started until well after dawn today. So what if she had hurt the perv's feelings? He had it coming. He shouldn't be looking at people's butts. Especially Katara's butt. They were enemies. It just wasn't appropriate.

Without the usual blasting, Katara had awakened with a dream fragmenting in her mind. All she could remember now was her mother and father's hut, the one that had been dismantled years ago for materials. In the dream, the hut had been empty. Katara had gone from room to room, calling her family and finding no one. Then she had turned around to find Zuko sitting on the mat where the family had shared meals. He was alone. He said something, she couldn't remember now what it was. She did remember that she had been angry at him, though – for making the hut smell like Fire Nation. Then, she had opened her eyes and found his shirt wadded beneath her cheek.

But never mind all of that, too, because Katara was having a breakthrough. She had moved and moved until she found balance, until she found herself at the center of every push and pull, and now she could feel the coming and going weight of her extremities like two tides on distant shores, flowing in perfect synchronization. Though she was not commanding any water, she could feel the water all around her, even inside her own body.

Lu Chi's special tea was almost worth being imprisoned by the Fire Nation. Katara had sometimes had trouble focusing on her bending at the beginning of her cycle. The ache in her belly and the heaviness of her motions were distracting and her failures to control her element were more frustrating than usual.

Not this time, though. This time, Katara had found her center. This time, she could feel the thickness in her midsection like the sea in the moments before it became ice. What's more, she could feel that thickness diffuse as she moved her body from form to form. It was amazing.

Katara was so enthralled with her newest discovery that she did not hear the door open at midday, did not notice Private Nu approaching until he unlocked her cell. She turned to see the door swing open and her guard standing at attention on the far side.

"What's going on?"

Private Nu gave a wry arch of his brow but did not look away from the distant point at which he stared. "Ahem. Forgive me, I must have misspoken. Former General Iroh wishes you to join him and the Fire Prince for the noon meal, Lady Katara."

For a moment, she thought she must have misunderstood. She only stared at him, unmoving.

Private Nu shut and opened his eyes in equally slow slides. "I am to escort you, Lady Katara."

* * *

Private Hong stood shivering on the deck of the Admiral's fastest warship in a line of watchmen from the sunken ships. He was shivering only in part because of the cutting wind that made his drenched uniform feel almost insubstantial. The real reason for the shivering was the constant flow of dirty looks he kept receiving from the other soldiers.

That, and Admiral Zhao was slowly pacing down their line.

Hong did not actually know much about the new Admiral. Like most soldiers, he had heard some questionably true stories of Zhao's quick ascension through the ranks of officers. It was also rumored the man had actually managed to capture the Avatar – only briefly, but Hong, having seen all of that power come down on his own patrol unit, had a new respect for the difficulty of the task.

It was also rumored that Zhao had a fierce temper and possessed no mercy for traitors or ineptitude. Hong swallowed, his throat suddenly tight, and stared straight ahead.

Zhao approached slowly, his boot-falls coming loud as hammers. His posture was rigid, somewhere between military discipline and hard-earned arrogance.

"Your Captains have informed me that many of you showed great poise during the Avatar's attack. I would like to congratulate you," he said, not sparing a look for any of the watchmen. "Unfortunately, a chain is only as strong as its weakest link, which means that every failure of the individual reflects poorly on the whole."

Admiral Zhao stopped directly in front of Hong and cast him a sour look. Still staring straight ahead, Hong swallowed again.

"You must be Private Hong," Zhao said.

"Yes, Admiral."

"Are you a rebel saboteur, Private Hong?"

"No, sir! I would never betray my Nation, sir!"

"Then explain to me, Private, because I'm not sure I understand." Zhao's hands were fisting at his sides and his voice rose as he went on. "Apart from willful sabotage, what would compel you to set all of your ship's messenger hawks free during an attack?"

Hong's mouth worked. He knew before saying it that his answer would be the wrong one. "I- The ship was sinking and- and I didn't want them to drown, sir."

"And you thought the lives of some louse-ridden birds were more important than alerting the navy of the movements of the Avatar?"

"Sir, I didn't think-"

"That much is obvious!" Rigid in his fury, the Admiral spun away and shouted at a pair of armored men standing at attention nearby. "Guards, take Prisoner Hong to the brig. The rest of you," he said, glaring down the line of watchmen, "can get off at the next port with the remainder of your crews and find your own way home. This vessel doesn't have room for failures."

With a final snarl, the Admiral marched off the main deck toward the observation tower. Hong gave no resistance as he was marched below. In fact, he hardly noticed that it was happening. All he could think was how disappointed his mother was going to be when she heard about this. He didn't even notice the alarm bell ringing distantly or the soldiers who hurried past him in the corridor.

The only thing that got through to him was the shout of the firebender who paused, apparently familiar with one of Hong's escorts. "Hurry up with that prisoner, Cuchan. The Avatar's been sighted."

As the guards hurried him down another level toward the brig, Hong was sure he knew what was coming. He began to struggle.

"Please don't lock me in down there," he said, setting his feet. The other soldiers were much bigger than he was though and they dragged him on. "I don't want to drown when the ship sinks! Don't lock me in!"

* * *

As Katara preceded Private Nu up from the belly of the ship and into the sparkling daylight, she had to cover her eyes to avoid being blinded. She had not been out in the sun for nearly two days and the heat of it on her face was saturating. The air, too, was fresh and salty. Squinting, she could see land, a dark blur on the horizon. Still too far for an escape.

Katara became aware that there were other soldiers on the deck. Five men sat in a group around a net, their hands quick and precise with steel mending tools. Had the tools been made of bone, they could have been Water Tribe. They were not chatting, though, and they did not look up at her. Not even when Private Nu called her name did they so much as steal a glance upward.

She turned back to find Private Nu holding out a hand toward the navigation tower. "It's this way, Lady," he said.

Katara moved to follow him and then hesitated once more as he hung back to walk a half-step behind her. She frowned but didn't try to argue again. In just a few moments between the brig and the main deck, Private Nu had reinforced everything she had come to believe about the stubborn strangeness of the Fire Nation. There was no point in wasting her breath.

They climbed flights and flights of stairs and came at last to a tidy dining room with a long window and a low, round table. On cushions on the floor sat Katara's captors, looking practically hostly. Well, Iroh looked hostly. He wore a semi-formal looking robe with little dragons embroidered in thousands of miniscule golden stitches. He smiled as she stepped through the door and held out his hand to the third cushion at the table.

"It is good to see you out and about, Lady Katara! Won't you please do us the honor of joining us?"

The door closed quietly behind her before she could decide on a proper response. Rather than sitting, Katara crossed her arms over her chest and lingered near the entryway. "Why am I here?"

Iroh didn't miss a beat. "For lunch of course!"

As a stark contrast to the old man, Zuko was sitting ramrod straight with his hands braced on his thighs and did not look at her. He wore a dark, high-necked tunic that appeared to have some dust streaked down one sleeve. His expression was bland, impassive. "A Lady peer should not be made to eat all of her meals alone," he recited. It sounded like a line out of some book on royal etiquette.

Katara narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm not a Lady peer and I'd rather eat alone."

Zuko shot her a dark look as if she'd broken something of his. "That's pretty rude."

"You're holding me prisoner and you want me to be polite to you?" Katara mocked a bow. "My apologies, Prince Zuko. I did not realize what a thoughtless guest I have been."

"Oh, there is no need for apology, Lady Katara," Iroh said as he waved one hand through the air. "Unless of course it is our apology to you for our ignorance of current Water Tribe chieftaincy."

Katara's mouth went dry. So her father was to be endangered by her capture after all. "I don't know what you're talking about." Zuko was watching her very closely, but she didn't meet his eye. She knew he could tell she was lying – and what was the point? He already knew who she was anyway.

"Please," Iroh said. "Sit with us so that we can eat our rice before it gets cold."

As if in a trance, Katara set one foot in front of another and settled onto the cushion. There was a small covered bowl, a pair of chopsticks, and a tiny dish of some kind of sauce set before her. Iroh was already pouring her a cup of tea.

Zuko was still watching her from the corner of his eye. Katara picked up her teacup and then set it down again. She felt ill. "So how is this supposed to work?"

Iroh smiled and sipped his tea. "Ladies first, of course."

"You could look a little happier about it."

"Zuko."

Katara glared at the Fire Prince and lowered her hands to her lap so that he would not see them clenching. "How could you possibly think this would make me happy?"

Zuko snapped his glare to his uncle. "I told you she wouldn't understand."

"Now now," Iroh said. "Let's all-"

"It's you who doesn't understand." Katara sat up very straight. "I would rather die than allow myself to be used as bait for my father."

The room went very still. Zuko's eyes widened and flicked to her throat, then back to her stare. It was Iroh who broke the silence, his brows tipping back woefully.

"I was talking about the rice."

Katara felt her face growing warm. She looked at her covered dish. The lid rattled when her hand settled over it.

"I'm not after your father."

Zuko's voice was strangely quiet. It made her uncomfortable, but she looked up at him anyway. There was something even stranger about the way he watched her, like he had spotted something in her face he hadn't expected to see. Katara frowned and looked away. She didn't want him to see it, whatever it was.

The lid of the rice dish was too hot. It was burning her fingers. When she removed it, it dropped too loudly on the tabletop. Shortly after, Iroh's did as well. He grinned apologetically.

"It is a strange design. Difficult to hold onto."

* * *

Aang gritted his teeth as he began trying to roll a log of driftwood up the little slope toward the shelter he was making on top of the highest rock. The log would make a great leaning-back brace and, after a day mostly spent leaning back on his elbows or his hands, it would be a relief to have something else to lean on. He hadn't seen Appa or even any ships all morning and was starting to wonder whether he should try to leave the island on his own. Still, Appa had a pretty good instinct for where Aang might be, so he figured he could wait a little longer.

Finally, the log came free of the packed sand. Pushing it forward, Aang stepped into the sunken place it had occupied. His foot landed on something leathery. There was a snap and a bright crush of pain. Then Aang yelped and went hopping back on his uninjured foot only to find a horse-crab with its longer pincher closed over his toes. Steadying himself on the one foot, Aang smiled down at the crab.

"Hey little buddy. Sorry for stepping on you but could you let go of me now, please?"

The crab snorted at him with its tiny nostrils.

"Seriously, that really hurts." Aang reached for the pincher to detach the crab, but it swung its tiny hooves at him, clacking his knuckle.

"Ow!" The airbender sucked his knuckle for a second, then narrowed his eyes at the crab. "Alright, you asked for it."

He worked awkwardly through a form and sent a blast of air down his leg at the crab but the little creature only flapped in the wind like an armored banner and then closed its other pincher on his smallest toe to steady itself. Overbalanced by the force of his own bending, Aang fell on his back in the sand.

That was when he heard the bell of an approaching ship.

* * *

Finally, Katara had had enough. "Please," she said at last. "Please just call me Katara."

"On one condition," Iroh said, his mouth tugging upward at its corners. "I will call you Katara only if you will call me Uncle."

"Oh! Well…" Katara tried repeatedly to scrape a beetle from the end of her chopstick, thinking fast.

"Uncle." Zuko spoke with his face still pointed down at his rice. "Are you sure that's such a good idea?"

Iroh's smile only grew wider. "I don't see why it wouldn't be. As a leader of the Water Tribe, Katara has every right to negotiate for what she wants."

There was a beat of silence as Katara took in Iroh's fox-yellow eyes. "Thank you, Uncle," she said.

Zuko made a sound in his throat like a wood frog. He kept accidentally eating beetles; they crunched hollowly between his teeth and his eyes would widen for an instant every time. Katara smiled and sipped her tea.

"If I have the right to negotiate," she said, placing her cup back on the table with a precise click, "what would it take to get me off this ship?"

"The Avatar."

Iroh waved his hands as if to dismiss Zuko's dark tone – or perhaps to break the chilly staring contest Katara had begun with the Fire Prince. "Enough business! Can't we talk about something enjoyable for a change? Katara, I have always wished for the chance to ride a flying bison. Would you do an old man a favor and tell me what it's like?"

* * *

Appa bellowed and slapped his tail against the water, but it was no use; there were too many nets and he was too tired and in too much pain to shake them off.

He had gone toward the steel ships because that was where Aang's smell was strongest but Appa had not realized until he was too close that the scent was old. When he had turned to flee, he was struck by a fireball that singed his tail and he had crashed in the water, stunned. It felt good now, cool on his burned skin, and the struggle he put forth was half-hearted.

On the ships above, men yelled back and forth and ran around. Appa could remember one of those voices; it was not a voice he liked. He wished the human in his saddle would wake up.

Momo crawled down to Appa's nose and screeched, twisting his ears back and forth. He was outside of the nets. The bison groaned through the water, gusted out his great nostrils. On the decks above, there was a mechanical clank and the ropes around Appa's belly tightened, lifting him up. Momo flew a few frantic circles. Appa roared at him and, finally, the lemur glided off around the hull of one ship and was gone.

* * *

Sokka woke up and was sure that he was still dreaming. He was on a steel deck. Nearby, Appa groaned quietly with each breath. There was a smell of burnt fur. Above, Fire Nation soldiers leaned over him, including a face he remembered from that temple at the winter solstice.

"Where is the Avatar?" Zhao asked. He spoke slowly, enunciating through his scowl.

Sokka blinked up at him. "Your sideburns got a lot longer."

"Get him up."

Hands descended on Sokka's arms and hauled him to his feet. When his injured leg moved, he cried out. The wound felt like it was on fire and he had to look down to remember what had happened, that this wasn't some horrible dream-burn. The bandage was bled through in a big spot but not saturated; the bleeding had stopped at least.

"I feel generous today," Zhao said, striding slowly around Sokka. His smirk stretched out and sharpened its claws. "I will ask you one more time. Where is the Avatar?"

Things were coming back to him. Sokka took some deep breaths and straightened up, pulling away from the guards a bit. "Even if I knew where he was," he said, "I definitely wouldn't tell you."

Zhao circled him again, his eyes dropping to the bloodied bandage and his nose wrinkling. "That's quite an injury. Tell me, does the Southern Water Tribe know anything at all about infection?"

"Does your barber know anything about sideburns? They're creepy. That's all I'm saying."

Sokka should not have been shocked when Zhao grabbed the front of his tunic and jerked him forward, making him wince. He should have seen it coming but his mind was dull with pain and worry. Zhao sneered down at him. "You have a smart mouth for a peasant from a crushed people. Perhaps we'll wait until that wound turns septic. An amputation might benefit your manners." He released Sokka with a shove and turned to his men. "Take him to the brig." His smirk returned. "Make sure he enjoys his final stroll."

* * *

It happened more than once. If it had just been once, Katara may have been able to chalk it up to an accident or misinterpretation. But, the third time she caught Zuko looking at her mouth from the corner of her eye, she put down her chopsticks beside her rice-and-beetle-speckled bowl and frowned.

"Is there something on my face?"

Zuko did not look up from his rice. "No. Why?" His unscarred cheek was turning slowly pink.

"Ah! It seems that we have run out of tea!" Iroh seemed inordinately happy about this. He rose and took the pot. "I'll just go to my room for some more."

He scurried from the room and Katara stared after him. "He keeps tea in his bedroom?"

"Sitting room. Uncle believes that brewing tea is an art." Zuko's eyes flicked up to her and, with a sort of measuring hitch of his lips, he said, "He actually practices that art more often than firebending."

Katara smiled slowly. "That really surprises you."

His tiny effort at a smile vanished. "He was one of the best firebenders of all time and he just let it go. Why wouldn't it surprise me?"

Katara shrugged and straightened her chopsticks. She didn't care for his belligerent tone but she had heard it so much in the past few days that it was losing what little impact it had had to begin with. So, when she replied, her voice was light. "He keeps folding screens for sentimental value. He organizes a music night. He just doesn't seem like a violent man."

Zuko kept staring at her. "People can change."

Something in the way he said this drew Katara's attention, some hollowness or hidden weight. She caught, for just an instant, the hanging open of his eyes, the childish draw in his brow. Then, he frowned and looked away.

Katara wasn't sure what to say, so she fiddled with her bowl, knocking the last grains of rice and beetles off the rim. Zuko picked a few final bites from his bowl and, by the soft crunching, she knew he'd missed some beetles. Katara smiled. "How did you know about the frogs?" she asked at last.

Zuko choked on his rice and drank the last of his tea to clear his throat. "What frogs?"

"The frogs Sokka and I had to suck on when we got sick that time." She narrowed her eyes. "Aang got captured. Did you hear it from Zhao?"

"Um, yes. That's how I heard. About the frogs."

"I didn't think you were on such great terms with Zhao. Didn't he have you chained up one time?"

Zuko frowned and picked single grains of rice from his bowl. "Don't you have rice left? You shouldn't waste food."

* * *

Aang worked swiftly through the form, whirling his arms around his head and angling his feet just so, and shot a gust of wind that would have taken all the leaves off of a hogupine plant. (Although why anyone might want to go anywhere near a hogupine plant was a mystery to Aang.) The air snapped tight the sail of the little fishing craft and the hull scudded across the waves. As Aang relaxed and peered into the unreachable horizon, a long brown hand clapped on his shoulder.

"Hey, you're a pretty handy guy. You want a job?"

Aang grinned back at the tattooed face of his new friend. "Thanks, but I kind of have a job right now."

The tall boy shrugged. His teeth were bright as he smiled. "Well, when you get over the whole Avatar thing, you just come on back to Hato and—"

"Hato!" cried a furious voice from below. There was a rapid thump of feet on steps. The boy only grinned wider and stretched out his arms as if to hug the girl as she ran on deck. They could have been twins. She had the same tattooed brown face, the same wildly tangled hair. She did not look like she wanted to hug him. "The mast is about to split from the—who is that?"

"Koa!" cried Hato as he slung an arm around her shoulders. She seemed not to notice, too preoccupied with staring at Aang. Hato went on. "Dearest cousin, you wouldn't believe all the trouble we had while you were sleeping. The wind just stopped, as if all the spirits decided we—"

"Who are you?" Koa pointed one finger at Aang, ignoring her cousin.

Aang smiled and bowed. "I'm Aang, the Avatar."

"Oh. So…" She narrowed her eyes at him, then at the straining sail behind him, then him again. "I appreciate your, ah, airbendy help and all, but my father will burst something if the mast breaks off this ship."

There was a loud groan that seemed to vibrate up from the hull. Aang turned back to find the boards of the deck bowing slightly where the mast pressed against them. "Oh. Oops," he said, and then hurriedly worked through a slower form, gentling the flow of air.

When he turned back, the two teenagers were arguing. Or they seemed to be arguing. The swift back-and-forth of their conversation had a certain practiced rhythm to it. Aang's head turned side to side as he looked from one to the other.

"You should have woken me up before trying to land the boat alone, much less taking on a passenger."

"I would have if waking you up wasn't like baiting a rhino-shark. It was safer my way. Besides, he's lost his friends and he's the Avatar. It's our, you know, duty or something."

"Fair enough – but your way, safer? You could have scuttled us, or wedged us on rocks until high tide. We could have been marooned for days."

"Safer for me, then. You flail around when you wake up."

"Do not."

"Do so. I could have been knocked unconscious and then you'd be in a real pickle."

"Would not."

"Would so."

The strangest thing was how they went about working on the deck as they argued without a hitch, easy as breathing. Koa checked a compass and adjusted the rudder. Hato took the slack out of one of the ropes retraining the sail. They worked together to expand a great net from each side of the ship. The mesh ballooned darkly off the bows like a pair of wings. The cousins didn't stop arguing for the space of a breath.

Finally, Aang had had enough. He shut his eyes and loudly said, "Sorry to interrupt but can you please tell me where we're going?"

Hato and Koa blinked at him as if only just remembering he was there. It was Koa who answered. "Sowachi harbor," she said. "We're meeting the rest of our family there."

"We hope to, anyway," Hato said. He directed a meaningful look at his cousin

Koa sighed and sat down on the deck by the rudder. "We're fisher nomads. Our whole family follows the schools of bison-tuna through their migration from Whale Tail Island all the way into the Great North Sea."

"Every year we make the trip," Hato said, grinning. The tattoos on his face stretched. "Tradition. It's been that way for hundreds of years."

"Survival," Koa said. She did not smile. "Now, though, the Fire Nation steamers disrupt the route the fish take. We haven't been able to figure out just where they're going for the past few years and the trip keeps getting harder. Without the fish, we have nothing to trade. Our people are starving one year at a time."

"That's terrible," Aang said. He frowned down at the deck, trying to think of something he could do to help.

They were all quiet for a moment and the sound of just the wind seemed lonely without the bickering. At last, Hato admitted, "We weren't technically supposed to take this ship out alone. Our family doesn't know where we are."

"We know where we are, though," Koa said. For the first time, she smiled at Aang. "Don't worry, Avatar Aang. Nobody knows these waters like fisher nomads. We'll get you back to your friends."

"Thanks, Koa. If there's anything I can do to help your people, you can rest assured that I will."

"Well," Hato said, twisting a finger in his ear idly. "You could destroy the Fire Navy and make them sail like normal people."

Aang joined nervously in their laughter. He had not mentioned that part of his recent activities with his new friends but the reminder was still painful. Hundreds of people could have died when those warships sank and it was all his fault. After a while, Aang crept away to stare again off toward the horizon. He crossed his arms and leaned on them against the rail, hoping desperately that his friends were safe.

Wherever they were.

* * *

Sokka, having passed out halfway between the deck and the brig, woke up in a cell lit by a single red lamp at the far end of the block. His leg was pulsating and he had to struggle to sit up on the cot he'd been dumped on.

"That looks like it really hurts."

Sokka almost fell off the cot turning to see who had whispered to him. It was a young man leaning against the bars that separated his cell from Sokka's. He wasn't wearing the armor of a soldier but the tunic and leggings looked a lot like they could have been an underlayer of the uniform. As Sokka watched, the very obviously Fire Nation man raised a hand and smiled.

"I'm Hong. Looks like we're neighbors."

"Sokka." He narrowed his eyes. "What are you in for?"

Hong scratched his head. "Technically, willful sabotage and treason. But I really just let some hawks free from a sinking ship."

Sokka nodded slowly. "Keep it simple. I like that." He leaned forward and started untying the bandage from his leg. Every movement hurt.

The other man went on talking, seeming not to notice that Sokka was in incredible pain. "I like animals, you know? My dad is the veterinarian in our village and I always went with him as a kid to pet the horse-pigs and- Oh, Agni!"

The wound that Sokka had uncovered was jagged and deep, about as big as his fist. The skin around it was red and swollen tight.

"What happened?"

Sokka looked away from his torn flesh and drew some deep breaths. "Oh, you know, fight with a coral reef. You should see the other guy."

Despite Zhao's taunting, Sokka knew about infection. Although healing was women's work, Katara had nagged him enough that he knew a few basic remedies. Salt water was one of them, but sea water was not. There could also be pieces of reef stuck in the wound – it felt like there might be.

He turned sharply to Hong. "You said your dad was a veterinarian. You can help me! I think there are some bits of-"

Hong held up both hands and shook his head. "Oh no. I don't do that stuff. I'm not a doctor. Besides, you're an enemy of the Fire Nation. I wouldn't help you even if I could."

"Hey!" Sokka pointed through the bars at him. "Treason? Sabotage?"

"Those hawks were loyal to the Empire."

"They eat mice and live in cages. I don't think loyalty is really all that important to them."

"You just don't understand the depth of an animal's service."

Sokka rolled his eyes but the guard yelled before he could speak. "Keep quiet in there!"

"Hey," Sokka said, leaning back to peer toward the guard station, "don't we get anything to eat?"

"You slept through dinner. Now shut that mouth before I put a boot in there!"

Sokka rubbed his stomach and wondered if a boot would be worth trying to eat. There was a rattle of wood-on-wood from off to one side and he looked up to find Hong holding out a bowl with chopsticks poking out.

"I was too nervous to eat it all," he said.

Sokka limped quietly across the cell to take the bowl and, sitting on the floor, spoke between quick mouthfuls. "What about all that stuff about not aiding the enemy?"

Hong frowned. "Well, feeding you technically isn't helping. Fire Nation Protocol is supposed to protect prisoners from mistreatment." He pinched the sparse hairs on his chin and then turned to climb into his own cot.

Sokka watched him go, waving even though Hong clearly wouldn't see. Weird guy. As he finished off the last of the rice, he sucked the chopsticks clean and looked again at his injury. It was hard to see in the faint red light, but he could make out some black spots. With the chopsticks, he prodded experimentally at one of the spots and it hurt – oh, it hurt – but the wood rasped on something that clearly was not scab or flesh.

Swallowing and sticking his tongue out to one side to aid in focus, Sokka began to pick the bits of reef from his wound.

* * *

Zuko was sweating. He wished his uncle would come back with that tea already. He stared determinedly at the bowl before him, though he did not see the rice as he ate it. He wasn't even trying to pick out the beetles anymore. The taste was distracting, which was just what Zuko needed. Anything but the girl sitting a third of the way around the table from him.

Katara possessed perfectly civil table manners but she had a habit of pulling her chopsticks from her mouth at an entirely inappropriate angle. Each time she took a bite and pulled the utensils from her mouth, her upper lip puckered just slightly over her lower lip. To most people, it would not have even registered. To Zuko, who had sat through hours of lectures about how to properly spoon up soup, it was maddening. Not only because she was flagrantly breaking table manner law, but because his blood kept getting hotter in his veins as he watched her do it. Over. And over.

And then she said the name he had been willing her ignorant of for the past five silent, sweaty minutes.

"So he'll have told you all about the Blue Spirit, too, I guess."

Zuko stiffened as the rice-and-beetle mush in his mouth turned into chalk. He forced himself to swallow. "Of course," he said.

Katara was watching him. A creepy little smile spread across her face. "You're afraid of him."

"Who, Zhao? I am not." Zuko clutched his chopsticks in one fist.

Katara was still smiling. Smirking, really. "The Blue Spirit. You're afraid he'll come and bust me out, aren't you?"

Zuko froze for an instant, taking this in. When he laughed, the sound surprised even him. He couldn't help it; the thought was too ridiculous. Go in disguise to rescue his own prisoner from his own brig? Ridiculous. "Not likely," he said at last, dabbing wetness from his eyes.

Katara said nothing and, sobering, Zuko looked up to find her watching him with her wide blue eyes. He became nervous again at once. Had she guessed? Stupid to react unguarded that way, just stupid.

"Why not?" Katara was scowling now, and it seemed like a sudden shift from the wide-eyed stare of a second ago.

Zuko blinked and leaned back fractionally from the table. "What?"

"Why do you think the Blue Spirit couldn't be bothered to save me? Essentially, he'd just be saving Aang again. Why do you think he wouldn't come for me?"

The truth was obviously not an option. Zuko flailed around mentally for something, anything. "Uh, because. He, uh. He was last sighted much farther to the south. And he would have had to have come a long way to get here."

"So what? We've all come a long way. He could have followed, couldn't he?"

"I guess so." Zuko gritted his teeth.

Katara threw up her hands. "Well then what's so funny about the possibility that he might come to save me from you?"

…_you monster._

She didn't need to say it. Zuko heard it in the instant of silence after she spoke. He didn't reach for his scar, not this time. He forgot about propriety and good form. All he could think of was this pretty girl with her icy little barbs. He was honorless and scarred and she rubbed it in in all the worst ways. All he wanted, suddenly, was to strip away that hope she kept clinging to, the hope that he would fail again. Like he always had.

"Because," he said, glaring, "the Blue Spirit is already too late. In five days we'll be in Fire Nation waters. He'd need a pretty nice ship to catch up."

Katara didn't even flinch. "We're stopping for supplies, aren't we? He could catch up then."

"Yeah, well he won't."

Zuko met her glare with his own for a moment, then surged to his feet and stalked from the room. The meal was over. He didn't have to tolerate any more of this. Iroh appeared in the doorway just as Zuko reached it.

"Make sure the prisoner is returned to her cell," he snapped, not even slowing.

Iroh dodged him, raising the teapot up over his head and grimacing in fear of the scalding water within. Not a drop spilled. He peered after his nephew for a moment, then turned back to Katara, who was surreptitiously scrubbing her eyes with one sleeve.

Luckily, Iroh was prepared for just such a situation. He settled back upon his cushion and refilled Katara's cup before his own. "You know," he said as he placed the pot back on the table, "since Prince Zuko decided to leave early, we can split his share of the cake."

Katara squinted at the old man. Her head was buzzing with too many thoughts – like what a jerk Zuko was. How dismissive and cruel he could be. How handsome he looked when he laughed. How shocking it was to realize that. On top of that, she wasn't sure how she should respond to any of this strange new treatment. Was playing along and accepting these petty luxuries a betrayal of her friends? And here was Iroh making an obvious bid to cheer her up by admitting that there was more to eat on the ship than beetle-infested rice. Everyone was eating beetle-infested rice and Iroh had cake. This, she was fairly sure, should have made her furious.

Yet Katara shook her head and pinched her eyes shut until she could grab hold of the laugh boiling along with everything else in her chest. "There's cake, Uncle?"

* * *

AN: Okay, who else is excited about the new episode of Korra coming out today? Gah... I have to get to a place with cable...


	7. Chapter 7

It was late and Zuko couldn't sleep. He lay with his hands behind his head, glaring at the ceiling and thinking of things that he should have said, things that really would have put that waterbender in her place. And trying very hard to not think about the way Katara had glared at him toward the end. Normally this kind of frustration burned off and Zuko slept – it was a seething sort of sleep and he usually awoke in as foul a temper as he had been in to begin with – but tonight he was deprived of even that much relief.

It was perhaps the twentieth time he had huffed and rolled over that he spotted something unexpected. There she was, Katara, pulling his door closed behind her. He hadn't even heard it open.

Zuko jerked up on his elbows. "How did you—?"

"Shh!" Katara held up her hands, glancing back at the door over her shoulder. Her blue eyes were huge when she looked back at him. "He'll hear us."

Zuko opened his mouth to ask who, or what was she talking about or did his uncle let her out again, but she was suddenly moving toward him, her feet quiet against the steel floor. Her hips shifted smoothly under the over-large shirt she wore. His shirt. Words failed him.

Katara slid to the side of his bed. "You wouldn't want him to hear us, would you?"

"Hear us?" Zuko asked faintly. The words were suddenly taking on a new meaning. He swallowed. "No. Who— Agni! What are you doing?"

The logical part of Zuko's brain easily understood that she was climbing onto his bed, that she was raising her knee to straddle him. Something was jamming the cogs, though. Her legs were bare, he realized, the skin brown and perfectly smooth. It seemed all she wore was his shirt, loosely belted. The neckline swooped.

"I'm showing my appreciation," she said, smiling as she settled atop him. "Thank you."

"Uh. For what?" Zuko caught her wrist as she reached for his chest. His bare chest. Was he wearing anything beneath the sheet? He could not remember. And her weight against his hips made him hope the answer was no. He hoped she could feel what she was doing to him. No, there was no doubt – she could not help but feel it. Zuko hoped it was making her as breathless as he was swiftly becoming. His thumb slid into the cup of her palm and he sat up slowly, watching her blue eyes hood and her lips part as he came closer. "Tell me – what's made you so… appreciative?"

Katara laughed softly and her hands slid across his shoulders, his chest. "I'm grateful to you…" She squirmed against him slightly and gasped.

Zuko placed his hands on her hips, at first lightly stroking that soft skin and then gripping, pulling her more firmly against him. There could never be enough pressure between his body and hers. Just never quite enough. "For…?"

"For saving me from Prince Zuko," she said. Her hands settled on his face and she bent and kissed him and he could not feel it. He could not feel any of it at all because he wore the mask of the Blue Spirit.

"Augh!"

Zuko sat up in his bed, hugging the pillow in his lap and staring wide-eyed at the far wall, the closed door that had never opened. A dream. It had been a dream. His stomach twisted strangely even as his blood sizzled. The pillow was a teasing weight on his throbbing crotch. With a snarl, Zuko hurled it at the far wall.

This shouldn't be happening to him. He was a prince. He would be Fire Lord one day if he could just prove to his father that he was worthy. And he was worthy.

Zuko surged up from his bed and began pacing through his bedroom, knuckles cracking at his sides. His sleep pants were tighter than they should have been and every step both helped him breathe and fanned the fire.

And this, _this_, was utterly beneath the dignity of the crowned prince. Zuko was better than this, stronger than this. He reached the altar and spun on his heel. The pillow sat fat and soft against the far wall. As he stared at it, it sagged further, bottom sliding against the floor. Feather-stuffed seductress.

"Huah!"

The fireball consumed the pillow in a wink, filling the room with smoke and a smell of burnt feathers. Zuko watched it burn for a moment, breathing through his teeth, then pressed a hand over his eyes.

Even the way the fire moved reminded him of her.

"Prince Zuko!" Iroh burst through his door in a fighting stance and swiftly took in the scene. The burning pillow, the unharmed prince.

Zuko crossed his arms, then spun away to hide his body's lingering reaction to the dream. The move came an instant too late – Iroh's brows shot up his forehead. Still Zuko stood glaring at the tapestry over his altar. His face felt scorched and his heart squirmed in shame. "It's fine, Uncle. Just an accident."

Iroh was silent for a moment. Boots hammered in the corridor, closer and closer. Zuko shut his eyes and drew some deep breaths, struggling for a cooler temper. Maybe he could throw his armor on before the guards arrived and saw him this way. Maybe he could still—

"Of course, Prince Zuko," said Iroh. Then his voice came from out in the corridor, reassuring and quickly dismissing the men. Zuko heard his door close and dared a glance over his shoulder.

His uncle stood there, watching the remains of the pillow smolder. "When most young men have nighttime accidents, the bedding is usually salvageable," he said quietly. "Is there something you would like to tell me, Prince Zuko?"

Zuko scowled and turned back to glare at the tapestry. Ordinarily, he would say no and demand to be left alone. "Yes. You ruined everything by bringing her here. I haven't had a decent night's sleep since— since _you_ tied her to my bed. Now she even invades my dreams because you wanted to have lunch with her like she's a— like we could ever possibly— Rrr!" Zuko whirled away from the tapestry and opened his mouth to go on, but Iroh was already speaking.

"I am sorry, Nephew," he said. Zuko froze. Iroh was still staring at the pillow and the lines in his face were cut deeper by its fading light. "You know what a foolish old man I can be. I am sorry to have tortured you these past few days. I will see to it that you do not have to deal with the prisoner again before we reach the Fire Nation."

Zuko stared at his uncle for a long while, then sat hard on his bed, bracing his head in his hands. "It's too late," he said.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing. I—" Zuko rubbed his face and glared at the floor. Despite Iroh's assurances, Zuko knew that he could not bring himself to pretend Katara was not aboard. He would be back at her cell long before they reached the Fire Nation Capital. Not that it would do anything but inflict more frustration on him.

Shaking his head, Zuko asked, "What did you expect to happen, Uncle? What kind of outcome were you hoping for?"

Iroh blinked rapidly and shrugged with his hands held up, helpless. "I don't know. I suppose I hoped you would have a little fun."

"Fun," Zuko said. He sat up and stared at Iroh, frowning. "Katara is anything but fun."

"She tells me she has an acceptable singing voice."

"She's bossy and nosy and dangerous. The guards tell me she practices her three waterbending moves over and over all day."

Iroh tugged his beard. "All day. Yes, that does sound excessive."

Zuko narrowed his eyes at his uncle.

"But there is little to do aboard a ship, anyway. She is also very brave," Iroh said. A smile crept onto his face. "And very loyal to her family."

Zuko thought of how she had reacted when she thought they were fishing for information about her father. It gave him a strange feeling, as if he had eaten too many fire-flakes and the heat was saturating out from his stomach. He peered at his uncle a moment, then looked away. "How does any of that make her fun? She's not fun. She's challenging just to be around."

Iroh grinned slyly, "Don't you like a challenge, Nephew?"

"No," Zuko said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Actually, I'm pretty sick of challenges."

"Well then, maybe it is time to stop fighting this attraction and just let the romance happen!" Iroh clasped his hands before him and gazed off across the room. "Katara seems to like you, after all, and with a little—"

"What? Are you blind? She hates me. She's called me a monster and hopes to be rescued by—" Zuko threw his arms up and then dropped them. "By her rebel friends."

"Prince Zuko," Iroh said, settling on the bed at his nephew's side. "If she truly believed you were a monster, she would not keep your shirt under her pillow."

The image from the dream came flooding back. Zuko jerked upright and frowned. "She still hasn't given it back yet?"

"Well, she may have tried," Iroh said, shrugging and peering up at a fascinating corner of the ceiling, "but the point is that she does not keep it hanging from the screen or tossed in the corner but wadded up in her cot. Which means—" Iroh elbowed him, grinning. "—that she likes to touch it, which is as good as touching you, my handsome young nephew."

Zuko stared straight ahead, trying to absorb this new information. She slept with his shirt? She touched it and thought of him? Could that really be true and, if so, could she be interested in actually touching him? But could Zuko possibly broach a subject like that without all the shame and dishonor such a proposition called for? And was that really what he wanted?

"You do the men of our family proud – and that's really saying something," Iroh said. He stood up, stretching his arms over his head. His sleeping tunic sagged around his shoulders and hitched up his huge belly. Zuko rolled his eyes away. "Well, I should go back to bed. There are some hours before dawn that I would really like to fill with sleep."

Zuko watched him shuffle toward the door and a wave of panic rose up within him. He stood. "Uncle, wait. What do I do now? How do I convince Katara to… that I…" He floundered, unsure of exactly what he wanted to convince her of.

Iroh paused in the doorway, beaming. "Let us discuss it over tea tomorrow, Nephew. Tonight, get as much sleep as you can." His smile faded and he glanced toward the charred heap at the base of the far wall. "And perhaps it would not be such a bad idea to practice some of those calming techniques we talked about."

Zuko grimaced. His uncle's talk on 'calming techniques' had been the sort of humiliation he would never forget. It had only been two years and the words still made him cringe. Iroh winked, then shuffled out before Zuko could muster words for a reply.

He lay back on his bed and listened to his uncle's footsteps fade, then the faint clank of his door down the corridor. Like many other times in his life, Zuko considered his uncle's advice carefully, debating the potential outcomes and weighing them against what he really wanted to do, what he thought was probably the wiser course. At last, he disregarded any possibility of sleep and spent the last few hours of his night trying to decide what he would do to convince Katara of whatever it was he hoped to convince her of.

* * *

Sokka woke up to the clatter of tin bowls hitting the steel deck, then tried to sit up and groaned. His leg had not improved over the night. It had immediately felt better with the fragments of reef removed, but there was still a hot stiffness that he did not like – and the feeling had grown more intense in the night. He couldn't bring himself to bend his knee at all.

"That looks infected."

Sokka rolled his eyes and leveled a dry look at his neighbor. "Thanks, Hong. Never would have guessed that. It's really helpful." He said the last word with bitter force.

Hong squatted in his cell, picking at his rice. "You really should be seen by the medic," he said quietly.

"I'll be sure and file a complaint when I check out."

Sokka turned on his bed and, gritting his teeth to keep from making unmanly sounds, hobbled to the bowl sitting near the door of his cell. He couldn't quite bend down and get it and ended up plopping hard on his rear there beside the bowl. The impact shuddered through him. It felt like someone reached inside his leg, grabbed a handful, and twisted. While firebending.

As he very manfully swallowed the cries of agony bubbling up in his throat, Sokka picked up the bowl and stared down at the rice inside. A frown crept over his face. The food was lumped up, the grains dissolved or mashed into a paste. Sokka could only stare at it. He felt strange, a peculiar numbness that he could not ever remember feeling before.

"I'm not hungry," he said, as if saying it to himself would make it make sense.

"You probably have a fever," said Hong, unhelpfully. He held his rice bowl in both hands as if it was very delicate. "They really should have sent the medic by now."

"The medic isn't coming," Sokka said, leaning back against the cell door and shutting his eyes. "Not until it's time to amputate, anyway." It was really starting to sink in now. He was going to lose his leg. He wouldn't be boomerang-guy or even ponytail-guy, but one-legged-guy. Crutch-guy. Maybe someday peg-leg-guy. He wouldn't be running away from Fire Nation soldiers anymore. He would be hopping.

There was a shuffling sound and Sokka looked over to find Hong on his knees, clutching the bars that separated them. "Come on, Soaka. That's just the fever talking. The medic will be here any minute, now."

"It's Sokka," Sokka said, glaring. "And really, no he isn't. Zhao was pretty clear."

"But, but… That's a violation of the seventeenth clause of Fire Nation Protocol. The Admiral wouldn't just deny you medical attention. It's, it's…" Hong stared through the bars, scanning the floor as if the solution might be there somewhere. His brows began creeping up his forehead. "It's dishonorable," he breathed.

Sokka squinted at his weird fellow prisoner, then scooted closer so that he could pat the poor guy on the shoulder. "Welcome to the rebellion," he said.

Hong didn't move for a long while. Sokka shrugged and sat back against the bars separating his cell from the walkway. He picked at his rice even though he didn't really want to eat it. Everything he swallowed glommed onto the side of the hard lump in his stomach. Finally, he gave up and dropped the bowl off to one side with a clack. The chopsticks clattered across the floor.

"We really need to sterilize this wound."

Sokka raised his head – he had not noticed letting it hang – and found Hong reaching through the bars toward his leg. "No, don't touch!" He said, flinching away even though he found he did not quite have the energy to put real distance between them. "You could kill me."

"I will not." Hong snagged the torn edge of his pants and pulled the leg closer. Sokka gritted his teeth. "Leaving it to fester probably will though."

"Probably? What's probably? What do you mean by that?"

Hong shrugged. "Well, I'm not exactly a doctor, Sokka. I just went along with my dad to pet the pig-horses."

Sokka narrowed his eyes. "You're lying. You called them horse-pigs yesterday. You're making this whole thing up so that I'll let my guard down and you can finish me off."

Hong rolled the torn pantleg out of the way and tugged on the edges of the wound in what Sokka was sure were practiced methods of torture. He bit his fist to hold back a shout. "Hm," said Hong. "I think I saw an ugly gouge like this on a pelican-goat one time. This is too ragged, and too late for stitches, anyway. See how it's all swollen?"

"Ow-ow-ow!"

"It's pretty clean, though. You did a good job with those chopsticks. Now if only I had some fizz-wash – or a little of that scouring ointment."

Sokka grabbed at Hong's wrist but the Fire Nation youth slapped his hand away absently. Finally, he let go of the wound and sat back on his heels, frowning. "I don't know. Without medicine, there isn't much I can do. Well, I mean, there's the one thing I can do."

Sokka froze and watched Hong stroke his scraggly-haired chin in thought. "I don't like the way you said that."

Hong held up his hands, patting the air as if to calm it. "Try to understand; reefs can be poisonous. You picked out the big chunks and there don't seem to be a lot of small fragments. So it's probably inflamed as a result of the reef's poison."

Sokka laid a hand over his eyes. "Great. Poisoned by rocks. I'm glad Fire Nation veterinary medicine can offer me this sort of reassuringly realistic explanation."

"No, really," Hong said. "It hurts more than a rough puncture like that should, doesn't it? You feel dizzy, don't you?"

"Are you kidding? I've had worse lemur bites." Sokka's head was spinning. He put his hands over his temples to make it stop and frowned. "Okay, so saying there was poison, what's this one thing that you can do?"

"Well," Hong said, rubbing the back of his neck, "it's technically very easy and fairly painless. It would neutralize any poison still left in the wound and you would just have to work out what was left in your system naturally."

"That actually sounds alright." Sokka watched Hong's shifty eyes closely. "So what's the catch?"

* * *

Katara had escaped again. Guards had cut her off from the main deck and their boots fell heavily behind her, just barely out of sight in the long corridors. Katara turned a corner and bounded up flight after flight of steel stairs. She would get to the observation deck and dive off again. She had done it once, she could do it again. Through the control room in three breezy strides and out the door and then.

There he was. Zuko. Not standing at the rail but sitting at a low table, dressed in the same formal wear he'd had on at lunch. "Are you trying to escape again?" he asked, smirking. "That's pretty rude."

"I'm not trying," Katara snapped. She crossed her arms. "I'm escaping, right now." She tried to leap over the rail but found her boots were stuck – in cake. Bending down, she got a grip and yanked one boot upward. It didn't budge from the sticky mess. Katara straightened and glared at the smirking prince. "I really am. There's nothing keeping me here. You're a terrible person."

Zuko stood slowly, in the floating way of smoke unfurling. He was suddenly close, too close, speaking down to her. "That didn't stop you with Jet. Why should it stop you with me?" The thick tail of his hair swayed behind him but Katara felt no breeze.

He was leaning closer, his mouth a mean, pretty line. Katara tried to turn away, tried to pull her boots free of the cake, but she was locked in place, unable to so much as breathe. She wanted to escape. She wanted to stay. Her teeth were cracking, disintegrating under the crush of her jaw. All the ocean had turned to dust. Zuko lowered his mouth to hers.

"I never kissed Jet!" she slurred, heaving up from her cot.

It took a few bleary-eyed moments for Katara to realize where she was. As her breathing eased back to a normal rate, she glared across the cell at the red silk shirt. It was still hanging from the screen where she had left it the previous night. So much for avoiding troubling dreams.

"Who is Jet?" said Iroh's quiet voice.

She almost leapt out of her skin, turning to stare at the old man where he stood outside her cell with a tray of breakfast and tea. His expression was one of polite inquiry, but there was alarm in the wideness of his eyes. Katara noticed how his chin puckered slightly and realized he wanted to tug his beard. She was not sure whether or not to tell him.

As her hesitation stretched, Iroh smiled and shrugged. "Forgive a nosy old man. Here, I have brought you breakfast." He slid the tray under the bars for her and then straightened, still smiling.

"Thank you, Uncle," Katara said. She slipped out of bed and came to sit on the floor to drink her tea. The rice was just as buggy today as yesterday, she noticed – and in shorter supply. There was a rustle. She looked up.

Iroh had not left yet. He was still smiling, hands clasped over his belly. "Ah," he said, heaving a sigh. "Young love!"

Katara blinked up at him over her tea. "What?"

"It is the habit of the old to live vicariously through the passions of the young, Katara. And the way you called out that young man's name as you woke has struck right to my tired old—"

"Jet?" Katara squeaked. Hot tea sloshed on her fingers. She hardly noticed. "He's a psychotic freedom fighter I met with my friends. I don't love him – he almost drowned an entire village!"

"Oh, I see!" cried Iroh. Somehow his apologetic smile was much more convincing than the one he'd worn a moment ago. "Well, I wouldn't want to disturb your breakfast with further misunderstandings, so I will be on my way. I hope to see you at lunch again today – Prince Zuko and I had such a pleasant time yesterday and we are excited to repeat the experience!"

And with that, Iroh marched off, humming some old song at a much brisker tempo than Katara remembered it having. She opened her mouth to call after him, to decline the invitation as politely as she knew how to, but he spun back at just that instant, holding up a finger.

"Ah, and do not forget that tonight is music night. Such an enjoyable day we have to look forward to!"

"Music night?"

"Yes – and I cannot wait to hear you sing, Katara!" Iroh grinned and tucked his hands into his sleeves as he stepped through the door.

Katara raised a hand to wave goodbye but he had already disappeared. Her hand dropped on her thigh with a slap. This was her fourth day aboard the ship, her fourth day as a prisoner. And tonight was music night. She had lost track of time and now there were only hours left for her to prepare.

The guard did not even glance up as Katara slumped over her teacup, wide-eyed. After a few deep breaths, she steeled herself and straightened, frowning determinedly at the bars in front of her.

The dream didn't mean anything. None of them did. Tonight was the night she would escape.

* * *

"I don't care how effective it is," Sokka cried, "it's not happening." He had scuttled all the way across his cell – which was not wide enough to provide an appropriate distance – and sat with his shoulders hunched against the bars.

"Come on, Sokka." Hong spread his hands before him, still kneeling. His thin face had a deceptively concerned crinkle to it. "You need help. I know it's a little…" He shrugged, rubbed the back of his neck again.

"How about weird? Degrading? Disgusting?" Sokka ticked them off on his fingers, missing the finger-to-finger connection more often than not. "And a lot! It's a lot weird and degrading and disgusting."

"It could save your leg!"

"Could? _Could_ save my leg? You're not a doctor. You don't even know!"

"I already told you that. You're being unreasonable. Look," Hong heaved a sigh and sat back on his heels, "if there's even a chance that it could work, isn't it worth a try? You want to walk out of here, don't you?"

Sokka crossed his arms over his chest and stared hard at Hong. It was hard enough to force his eyes to focus fully, much less determine whether or not he was being tricked by this Fire Nation rat-weasel. The dizziness was getting worse and he had to occasionally look down to check his leg to be sure that it was not actually on fire.

"Please, Sokka. Just let me help you."

Sokka smiled a sly smile and held up a finger. "I know what you're up to, buddy."

Hong blinked, his mouth forming a tiny, hurt frown. "What I'm up to?"

"Yeah." Sokka sat forward, pointing at Hong now. "You just want to go around telling all your sick little Fire Nation friends that you peed on a Water Tribe prisoner!"

"What? No!"

"Confess, trickster! Confess to your cruel intentions!"

"But I don't even have any friends!"

The guard's voice boomed down the brig. "Would you two shut the flame up? If either one of you says one more flaming thing in the next flaming hour, I'll come down there and knock all your mother-flaming teeth out!"

Hong cringed at such overuse of profanity but Sokka only squinted at him and whispered, "My teeth or your teeth?"

Hong shot a nervous glance over his shoulder. "All of our teeth, Sokka. Our collective teeth."

"Ah, I get it." Sokka gave a thumbs-up and sat back again. He opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling because staring at that steady surface helped reassure him that the ship wasn't really tossing around beneath him.

Hong gripped the bars and leaned his face between them. "Sokka, you're running out of time," he hissed. "Come back and let me help you. Please. If you pass out where I can't reach you, you're guaranteed to lose that leg."

Sokka frowned at Hong for a long moment. For a devious fiery rat-weasel with obviously deep-rooted psychological problems, he looked like a pretty honest guy. His gut, actually, was tugging him back across the cell. That didn't really mean anything, though, since his stomach was having some kind of uprising and the gut-stomach relationship was pretty tight. His innards were undecided. What Sokka needed was a test, something that could determine once and for all whether Hong meant well, whether he was genuinely a good person or not.

"Alright, Hong – if that's actually your name – tell me one thing." He squinted and leaned forward, resting an elbow on his uninjured knee. "Do you eat meat?"

"Everyone in the Fire Nation eats meat," Hong said, looking confused.

"Okay, new question. Got a sister?"

Hong narrowed his eyes now, casting Sokka a sideways glare.

"That's a big yes. If you were arguing with your sister and she, say, dropped a fish on your head, how would you react?"

"A… fish?"

"Just," Sokka dropped his head and held up a hand, "answer the question."

"Well," Hong said, scratching in front of his topknot. "I guess I would ask her where she got a fish."

"Never-mind that. Would you inform to a parent about your sister's _previously forbidden_ fish-strike?"

"I don't know. That just, well… That doesn't seem very honorable."

"Hm." Sokka rubbed his chin and cocked his head. "The correct answer was 'manly' – it is not _manly_ to rat out one's cheating sister…"

* * *

Iroh was a bit concerned. His interference between Katara and his nephew had been a colossal success as of last night. He could not remember the last time Zuko had intentionally burned something in a fit that had nothing to do with the Avatar. Zuko had even slept late that morning. It was more than Iroh had ever hoped for.

Yet he was worried. Conversation between the two was rocky to say the least and now there was this freedom fighter character to worry about. Katara had very clearly said something about kissing Jet and despite her claim that he was just some hooligan, Iroh did not like the thought that his nephew might have competition for Katara's heart. Zuko did not need competition. He provided his own obstacles in most scenarios, this one more so than others.

So it was that when Iroh arrived with breakfast at their shared sitting room, he had already decided that they would have to ensure that Katara completely forgot the freedom fighter. They would have to blind her with Zuko's charm.

Presently, Zuko sat with his head in his hands and his elbows on the table. He appeared to be dozing off. Iroh set the tray down and, when that thump of impact didn't rouse his nephew, he began pouring the tea.

"This will never work out, Uncle."

Iroh very nearly let the cup overflow as he stared at Zuko. He wasn't sleeping. By the roughness of his voice, he may not have slept at all.

"It doesn't matter what I tell her. She won't see things my way. She can't."

"What things?" Iroh held the teapot suspended as he stared, even though both cups were full.

"Everything. The war. My father. The Avatar." Zuko straightened like something rising out of a grave. His eyes were red-rimmed from sleeplessness and the good one had a dark circle beneath it. "And what's the point, anyway? When the Avatar comes, I'll have to let her go."

Iroh set down the teapot very slowly and slid his fingers around his hot cup. It was a very calm movement considering the flutter of panic this regression was causing him. So they were back onto the Avatar now – Iroh's plan had failed. "The point, Prince Zuko," he said very gently, "is that life is difficult and often unfair. Sometimes, a man must struggle every minute. And sometimes a man must give himself a day to remember what it is like to be happy."

Zuko's mouth twisted into a scowl. "You think making a fool of myself with a girl who happens to be my enemy is going to make me happy?"

"For a little while, yes."

Zuko's scowl only tightened as he glared down at the table, then back at Iroh. "And when she leaves?"

Iroh shrugged. "She leaves. Perhaps she remembers you fondly."

"Yeah? What about the part where I deliver her friend and the final hope for the freedom of her people to my father and regain my crown? How does that feature in this great plan of yours?"

Iroh raised his brows and peered at his seething nephew. "Perhaps you are over-thinking this, Prince Zuko."

"So you would have me dishonor myself and Katara by pursuing this— this— _something_ only to drop her off the ship when the Avatar gives himself up? Just leave her on a dock somewhere? Is that all honor is worth to you?"

While Zuko talked – yelled, really – Iroh slowly reached across the table and pulled the teacup out of his nephew's reach. The young man clearly had enough manic energy without drinking any energizing tea. "Not every romance ends in a royal wedding, you know. There is no dishonor in showing a young lady that she is worth your attention. In fact," Iroh gazed upward, a bit dreamily, "there is great honor to be had and given in showing consideration for others."

Zuko rolled his eyes. Iroh pretended not to notice.

"And who can say what the future may hold? Maybe someday the war will end and you will have the chance to lead a very different kind of life."

Zuko shook his head and glared off at a corner of the room. "That's the thing, isn't it? You heard her yesterday – she'd rather die than give up her father. If the Fire Nation wins the war, it'll be because people like Katara are dead or imprisoned."

Iroh watched the young man's face grow bitter and the hopelessness he saw there ate at his heart. He could not bring himself to argue, though – because he agreed. Katara was not the sort to give up without a fight. Neither was Zuko, for that matter. If only…

But it was not yet time.

At last, Iroh ran the edge of his thumb along the rim of his teacup and drew a deep breath. "Then you have a decision to make, Prince Zuko. Do you want to get to know Katara while you can, knowing this may be all the time you have with her?" Iroh folded his fingers around the cup, hiding it from sight. "Or do you want to hide away in your room and try to spare yourself the pain?"

Zuko scowled a moment longer, then surged to his feet and stalked out of the sitting room. Iroh only watched him go, listening for the bang of a door or the clunk of distant boots on stairs. Stairs. His nephew would go to the observation deck and glare at the far-off strip of land, or the empty horizons on all other sides. It did not matter where he looked – the answer would not be there – but he would at least get some fresh air.

Iroh uncovered his tea and watched the steam curl up in perfect, ghostly swirls. He knew that if he touched them they would shatter, splitting and merging in unpredictable ways. So he did not. He lifted the cup and sipped and let the steam kiss his cheeks in passing and thought calmly of how the stakes of his plan had just shot much higher than he had anticipated.

* * *

As Katara led her guards – there were three today – onto the main deck, she immediately understood the reason for increased security. Land was much closer off the starboard bow than it had been yesterday. The sky was cloudless again today, but the sun only provided a distant heat. There were more soldiers on the deck as well, a whole row of them doing some kind of stretch. She paused in the open air, drawing deep breaths that smelled of rocky beach and low tide – and ever so slightly of sweaty men. Katara refrained from wrinkling her nose and moved on to the observation tower before her guards could say anything.

Tonight, she would swim to land, but first she had to have lunch with royalty again.

"Lady Katara," said one of her guards. "General Iroh has asked that you meet with him on the observation deck rather than the royal sitting room. That's—"

"Straight up the stairs. Yes, I remember." Katara began climbing steadily, thinking. She was excited at the prospect of spending more time outside today but that didn't distract her from how strange it was that they would be sitting on the deck from which she had last escaped. It was probably Zuko's idea, she thought, scowling and stomping a little harder on the stairs than she had intended. He probably just wanted to taunt her with her captivity, knowing that the swim to land would still be too far for an escape in broad daylight. And maybe, probably, he planned get up every now and then to scan the horizon with a spyglass or something. Just to be a jerk.

Katara stalked through the control room and out onto the deck, blinking in the sun. And there he was. Iroh, sitting at a low table arranged at the very front of the deck, set with only two cushions. He smiled and set down his teacup as Katara approached.

"Ah, thank you for joining me, Katara. Please, have a seat."

Katara looked all around the observation deck before lowering herself to the cushion. Guards were stationed here and there along the rails and also near the door but none stood so close that they would be able to easily listen to whatever she might say.

Zuko was nowhere to be seen.

Katara hazarded a smile for the old man as he poured her tea. "Thank you, Uncle. And thank you for the change of scenery." She drew a deep breath and stared out over the hazy sea. "Your dining room is nice, but this is just what I needed."

Iroh smiled and rearranged his napkin. "We all benefit from fresh air and a view."

Katara opened her mouth to agree but there was a sound by the door and she spun to look. It was only another guard, though, coming to stand with one of his fellows. Katara's brow furrowed and, when she turned back to Iroh, she found him watching her closely.

"I am afraid I must apologize," he said. His smile tightened as if it hurt him to say the words. "Prince Zuko declined to join us today."

* * *

AN: ...poor Sokka. :)

And here's a **Korra spoiler** moment:

Woah! Iroh the Second? Eee! This may mean that I get to write sexy!Iroh! (Though I'm finding more and more often that, to me, voice is important but backstory has everything to do with a character's fanfic potential. I'm still not really loving Mako.) Hurray for Saturday in any case! It'll be a great show!


	8. Chapter 8

AN: Thank you thank you thank you reviewers! I should be revising a novel that might someday make me money but instead I'm writing fanfiction. Why? Why am I depriving myself of future-money and therefore food? Why, it's for you, readers and reviewers, that I heartfully keep working on these stories when I should not be. You, and a sort of happy obsession... Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

* * *

.

"Oh," Katara said. Zuko wasn't coming. She was glad he wasn't there. Really she was. He was her enemy and he kept staring at her like a creeper and he only ever ended up insulting her anyway. And then there were the weird dreams… Really, it was better if she didn't see him at all. Probably.

"He has been feeling unwell for a while now," Iroh was saying. He kept flattening his napkin as if there were wrinkles Katara couldn't see. "I finally convinced him to rest, take a nap. He just works so hard."

Katara didn't remember Zuko acting sick over the past few days but Iroh's face crinkled like he was on the brink of tears. She reached across the table and awkwardly patted his shoulder. "Don't worry, Uncle. It's probably just, ah, a cold or something. I'm sure he'll be back to his old self in no time."

Iroh caught her hand and held it in both of his. His hands were very warm and it felt to Katara like she had reached into a pre-heated mitten. "You are a very nice young lady, Katara. Though your stay certainly hasn't been without its hiccups, I am glad to have you aboard."

"Thanks, I think." Katara pulled away and Iroh released her immediately. Unsure of what to do, she removed the lid from her rice bowl and found it was half-empty. Across the table, Iroh did the same. Still staring at the bowl after she swallowed her first bite, Katara said, "My 'stay.' You make it sound like I'm a guest instead of a prisoner."

Iroh flicked up his yellow eyes. "I'm so sorry. That was careless of me."

"I didn't mean, well, I did mean that." Katara frowned down at the lower deck. Some soldiers were running through some sort of warm-up exercise, legs and arms working in short, hard bursts. "I don't like this special treatment. It… It makes it hard for me to remember just what the Fire Nation is, what it's done." She turned her gaze to Iroh. "What you've done."

Iroh's gray brows inched toward his hairline. "What have I done?" he asked, though there was no bewilderment in his eyes.

"You were a General, right? I don't know a lot about the army but people don't become generals by doing nothing." Katara picked at her rice as she spoke, no longer looking at him. "I guess you've changed a lot in your life but I'm not so sure I believe in transformations right now."

Iroh laid down his chopsticks and leaned back from the table. Katara did not look up to see his expression. Nor did she eat her rice. She plucked beetles out one by one, lining them up like tiny soldiers along the rim of her bowl.

At last, Iroh said, "We live life with momentum, Katara. It takes an experience of deep trauma to stop us and create the opportunity for change. As we heal, we learn new ways of living and we let ourselves be open to new truths that we could never have fathomed before." He paused and peered down at the lower deck. "Or we turn away from those truths and steep ourselves in the tragic comforts of a past that is impossible to return to."

Iroh was quiet for another long moment. Katara turned her rice in her bowl, but could find no more beetles. Some blasting sounds came from below, but Katara was so used to the sound of firebending by now that she did not even look.

"You are smart to be wary when your perceptions are challenged, Katara." She peered up to find Iroh smiling sadly across the table at her. "But I hope you will remember that water is the element of transformation, just as it is the element of healing."

Katara jerked back slightly. The phrase was familiar, similar to something her Gran-gran had told her years ago. How jarring to hear the words again – and then realize that they had come from the mouth of a Fire Noble. She allowed a tiny smile. "Apart from that first day, you've always been so considerate. I wish you were really on my side, Uncle. Er, General Iroh, that is." Iroh looked very sad indeed now, but not at all surprised. Katara found that she could not meet his eyes. "That's why this is the last time I'll be eating lunch with you."

The words hung in the air for a long while. At last, the old man said, "Iroh is fine. I have not been a General for many years. Lady Katara."

Katara tried not to cringe at the title. His voice was so quiet and sad. She felt like she'd taken away his last friend or something. She dropped her eyes to her rice and did not feel like eating it but did, slow bite by slow bite.

"But just because this is the last time does not mean we cannot enjoy one another's company. Don't you agree, Lady Katara?"

Katara looked back up at Iroh to find him smiling again and refilling her teacup to the brim. She could not quite understand how he managed to refill teacups that had hardly been sipped from at all, but seeing him work his magic made her smile too. "I agree completely, Iroh."

"Good," Iroh said, then he raised one eyebrow at her and tipped his head as if preparing to argue. "And do you also plan to use this excuse to avoid Music Night?"

Katara knew instinctively that she could not lie to Iroh. It would be just like lying to Gran-gran and that had never, ever worked. Ever. So Katara did not try to be difficult, did not attempt to conceal the facts even though doing so may have made her escape more of a surprise. Instead, she hung her head and sighed. "No, I still want to come out for Music Night."

"Excellent! Then we will get to hear your beautiful singing after all!"

"Yeah," Katara said through a weak smile. "Lucky you."

"Don't be so hard on yourself! Your speaking voice is quiet pleasant. And I'm certain everyone aboard will appreciate a break from my duets with Lieutenant Jee." Iroh tugged his beard, smiling. "Although we do sing 'The Lovers of Shosho Bi' quite magnificently if I do say so myself."

.

* * *

.

With the help of Aang's airbending, the fisher nomad vessel went skimming to port at midday. Sowachi was a sprawling natural harbor, like a bite taken out of the end of the narrow peninsula. The arms of the bay were jagged rock formations that curved together as if to give the ocean a big pointy hug and the mouth was guarded by a small Fire Nation flotilla. Aang, where he stood bending a steady stream of air into the sail, counted the ships as they came close enough to be picked out individually. Seven, just guarding the way in.

"The Fire Nation takes a toll from every ship that passes in or out of the harbor," Koa explained from where she stood adjusting the rudder. "They monitor incoming and outgoing cargo to ensure that everything is being properly taxed. Better slow us down and hide that arrow, friend."

Aang stared at the distant ships. He could still jump overboard and probably go unnoticed. "Ah, actually you guys, I'm not so sure that coming here is a good idea for me. I don't think my friends would stop in a place that's so heavily guarded."

"Hey, you said one of them was being held captive by a Fire Nation vessel, right?" Hato said as he quickly arranged a yellow scarf into a turban around Aang's head. "Well, Sowachi Harbor is the last supply stop for the Fire Navy before they leave Earth Kingdom waters. If there's news about your friend, we'll find it here." He tucked in the loose end of the scarf and stood back examining his work. "Too bad to hide such a nice tattoo. I really admire it, you know. I have one that's kind of similar but it's on my—"

"Hato," Koa snapped from the back. "Tact."

"Oh, I don't mind," Aang said, smiling. "It's kind of flattering to know that people admired airbender tattoos enough to have them put… wherever."

"You wanna see it?" Hato asked, grinning and reaching for his sash. Koa made an annoyed sound.

Aang held up his hands very quickly. "No. That's okay, Hato. I'm sure it's great, though."

Hato heaved a sigh and went to help Koa draw in the nets. They had caught nothing, certainly none of the blue-green fish they had described, but neither of the cousins said anything about it. With that task done, Hato went below and did not come back for a long while. Koa only came to stand by Aang, her frown deep-set as she stared at the flotilla ahead.

Finally, she drew a breath and said, "The Fire Navy isn't fond of fisher nomads, Aang. This could get ugly. Just let me and Hato handle it. We've been doing it all our lives."

"Huh? What does the Fire Nation have against peaceful fishermen? And nomads in general, I guess…"

Koa looked at him and smiled slightly. The tattoos on her face interlocked all around her mouth as if she could smile no harder, as if even this much was a strain. "We've been known to strip an abandoned ship down and sell the scraps. The Fire Nation considers that to be stealing." Her smile turned a hint dark. "That and we don't have any country to invade or temples to destroy. Not much of a government to overthrow, either. They don't like us because they can't figure out how to control us. Short of taxes and sinking us, anyway."

Aang swallowed and looked back at the ships they approached. If he had been born a fisher nomad instead of an Air Nomad, what would the Fire Nation have done? No, he didn't want to think about it.

Hato loped back onto the deck, looking pleased with himself. "Everything is hidden. Did you tell him?"

Koa nodded without looking away from the flotilla.

Hato came to stand beside Aang and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Just let us take care of these turkey-sturgeons."

.

* * *

.

Without Zuko there to glower and steal glances and generally keep her on edge, Katara had a wonderful conversation with Iroh. Mostly, they talked about music but Iroh asked a lot of questions about Katara's people through their music. She had to think carefully sometimes to be sure that she was giving away no tactical secrets, but the questions were mostly inane. Who in her village played this instrument or that, what sorts of dances did they have, and a few questions that were just plain weird.

Katara laughed so hard she almost spilled her tea. Finally, gasping, she managed, "Sokka? Ask a girl to dance? He would probably crack some kind of lame joke that made her feel too sorry for him to say no."

Iroh nodded wisely. "Ah yes. In the Fire Nation, that is known as the 'pity play.' While not much respected, it can certainly be an effective tactic."

Katara frowned faintly and raised an eyebrow, not sure that she wanted to ask. "Besides, my brother hasn't really had a lot of opportunities for dancing with girls. There isn't really anyone our age left at the South Pole. And since all the men have been gone there hasn't been a lot of interest in partner dances anyway."

Iroh was sympathetically quiet for a moment. Then, he changed the subject. "So this young freedom fighter – Jet, is it?"

Katara stiffened. "Let's not talk about him," she said, her voice a bit higher than she would have liked. She looked down at her rice bowl but that was empty of course, then down to the lower deck. The rush and blast of firebending had gone on at a steady pace for the better part of an hour. Suddenly, it seemed much louder than before, booms coming quicker and without the steady rhythms. Katara finally peered over the edge to see what was going on.

"Run it again!" cried the distant voice of Zuko.

There he was, shirtless with his black wartail tugged by wind and motion. Katara stared as he charged into a drill against four opponents, leaping high in the air to kick fire at two, landing like a polar cat and blocking a strike before punching bright bolts of flame at the next soldier. He was fast and powerful, so powerful. And as scary as ever but now in a different way than before. Zuko wasn't just scary because he was physically dangerous anymore. Even from so high, Katara could make out how his belly rippled with muscle, how his back glittered with sweat.

She hadn't realized she'd said his name aloud until it came to her own ears.

"Ah yes," said Iroh, unimpressed. "I guess he isn't as unwell as I had originally thought."

Katara snapped her head around and glared at him only to find the speculative expression on his face. She looked back down at Zuko, then back at Iroh. "He doesn't usually start at midday," she ventured.

"Perhaps he felt compelled to sleep in." Iroh shrugged, smiled faintly, and turned back to face her. "I am sorry for the disruption. It's pretty rude of Prince Zuko. He knows we're here, after all, and this kind of showing off borders on the inexcusable."

"He— _showing off?_" Katara repeated. She didn't want to be caught at it, but still she was staring down at the lower deck again, where Zuko threw himself over an opponent's head and came down on his hands for a moment. His torso stretched tight, his ribs only subtle flicks of shadow. Then he was on his feet and fighting again. Had he done that, knowing she was here, to… show off?

Iroh was talking, Katara realized. She turned her head toward him but her eyes took more persuading. "…refuse a lunch invitation but then blatantly train before the very eyes of those who invited him. As his uncle and mentor I should go down to chastise him for such an offense."

"Uh huh," Katara said faintly. Her eyes flicked sideways, then back to Iroh.

"Please excuse me, Lady Katara," Iroh said as he rose. "I will be back momentarily."

Katara only nodded, then looked back down at Zuko. He flipped onto his back to avoid a blast, then popped back up like a buoy and sliced the air with fire from his arms. The sounds he made as he practiced filtered up to her, and the guttural yells, though familiar from all of his attacks on Aang, began to take on a new meaning.

And then Zuko messed up. He blocked a kick but missed his footing. The impact sent him skidding back to slam into an armored man at the rail. Both toppled to the deck in a heap. Katara winced in sympathy. That had to have hurt.

Yet Zuko dragged himself to his feet and immediately returned to his starting position. "Again," he shouted. Katara's mouth hung open. He wasn't even going to take time to recover? That _had_ to be showing off.

Just as he was stepping into the midst of his sparring partners, Iroh's voice cut the salty air. "Hold!"

.

* * *

.

Upon reaching the mouth of Sowachi Harbor, the little fishing craft coasted amidst the steamers like a child in a group of adults and came to rest alongside the flagship. Aang craned his neck to stare high up at the snapping Fire Nation banner raised from the peak of the tower. Even squinting against the sunlight, he only knew what it was by the flashes of red and black. The side of the warship stretched up beside them, impossibly tall.

"How do they even—?"

A steel segmented ladder unrolled from a spool high above and hit the smaller craft's deck with a shuddering impact. From the corner of his eye, Aang saw how Hato flinched at the rough handling. Koa's face was blank.

Five men climbed down with practiced ease. The first two were armored firebenders, face plates hiding their expressions as they stood at attention on either side of the ladder. The next was a thin man wearing an important-looking hat and the last two appeared to be his hatless aides.

The man in the hat pulled out a notepad and looked between Aang and the two fisher nomads. He spoke rapidly with a bored pitch, frowning as if it was all old news. "I am Harbormaster Goru. If you have items to declare before entering Sowachi Harbor, bring them forward. If you have cargo or passengers, they must be declared. Your hold will be searched by my agents now—" He made a sharp gesture with two fingers and the hatless aides scurried below. Goru didn't even pause. "—and an additional toll will be determined based on holdings and declared items."

Koa crossed her arms over her chest. "We have nothing to declare," she said.

Goru's gaze slid over the three again and he lowered the notepad to his side. He narrowed his eyes at Koa. "Aren't you a little young to be sailing alone?"

"We start young in the fisher fleets," Hato said, shrugging.

Goru glanced at Hato, clearly unconvinced. "Purpose of this visit?"

"We were sent ahead to meet up with our family's trade contacts," said Koa.

"Hmph. What about him?" he asked, pointing at Aang. "He obviously isn't a fisher nomad. Is he a passenger?"

"No," Koa said, lifting her chin. "This is our swab."

"Temporary position," Hato supplied. "Seagulls flocking extra thick this season."

Goru wrinkled his nose. "Pay?"

"Two Empirical silvers for a three-week stint," said Koa.

Goru curled his lip and peered almost pityingly down at Aang. "You can do better than working for fisher nomads, boy. You could get pay like that daily on a Fire Nation rice-runner."

Neither of Aang's new friends spoke, but he saw how they stiffened in his peripheral vision. Aang only smiled hugely. "Thanks, but I enjoy my current position. Swabbing for fisher nomads might just be my calling."

Goru made a disgusted sound but before he could speak his agents came thumping back on deck. One of them held a stained sack about the size of a man's hand, the sight of which made Hato emit a tiny groan. Goru cast him a nasty smile and took the sack. "Nothing to declare, eh? What's in here, I wonder?"

Koa turned toward her brother, speaking over Aang's head. "Hato! What did you do?"

Hato shrugged helplessly, the pattern tattooed on his forehead reorganizing with his furrowed brow. "I- I'm sorry, Koa! I didn't think they would find it and there was so much left I couldn't just throw it over, I just—"

"Hato, you idiot. You gulpy-gilled moron!" Koa was saying. Aang sank down between them, wide eyed. "If you weren't my favorite cousin, I'd string you up for the gull-rats to pick!"

"Agni," said Goru as he looked into the sack. He pulled out what appeared to be a tiny pearl and, to Aang's bewilderment, ate it. His mouth puckered and he stared at the fisher nomads, aghast. "These are pure sugar-clam pearls. There must be ten Empirical golds worth in here. Where did you get all these?"

Hato rubbed the back of his neck and stared down woefully. "We repaired a clammer's dinghy up by Hikoma Bay and he didn't have any money. We've tried three ports already but we can't seem to unload those. No one buys luxury sugars anymore."

"You could certainly sell them here in Sowachi Harbor," Goru said. He narrowed his eyes. "Why would you throw them overboard?"

Koa spoke through her teeth, still glaring at Hato. "We had hoped to get rid of them before we had to pay a tax – we don't have the coin for more than this vessel and our own passage."

Hato hung his head and apologized again but Goru was looking shiftily between the two. "Well," he said at last, tying off the end of the sack, "I suppose I can take these as payment, since you were intent on throwing them away anyway and there's more than enough here to cover your tax and toll." He tucked the sack inside the breast of his official jacket.

"But that's not a fair trade!" Hato leaned forward, holding up his hands at his sides. "If that sack's worth ten golds, then tax would be two, and our passage would cost three for crew and two for the vessel, which only comes to a total of seven, which means you're cheating us for three golds!" He grabbed Aang's arm and raised it in a wave. "This little guy could live for probably a year on that much money!"

"It's true," Aang said, trying on another smile, "I'm very thrifty."

Goru stared down his nose at Aang, then looked dryly back at the two fisher nomads. "Fine. I will give you two golds for the sack—" Hato opened his mouth to complain but Goru pressed on. "—which takes into account the trouble I will be forced to go to in procuring a buyer and the fact that I am doing you a very big favor by not having you whipped and turned away for your willful deception."

Hato opened his mouth to complain again but Koa shot out an arm and took an iron grip on his tunic. "Done."

Goru smirked and plucked a couple of coins out of his pocket. He reached out as if to hand them to Koa but then dropped them on the deck an inch from her hand. Koa stood stiffly, meeting his eye. "Welcome to Sowachi Harbor," he said, and turned back to the ladder.

.

* * *

.

Zuko was drawing back for his first assault when his uncle called a halt to the drill. He had to shut his eyes and suck in a few deep breaths before he could turn around and face the meddling old man.

Under normal circumstances, Zuko would train under his uncle's supervision. Today, though, he had specifically chosen to work through a set he was already very familiar with and he had chosen to start it while his uncle was having lunch with that waterbender so that he could work the edge off his anger without having to bite his tongue and listen to a lecture if he messed up. How had Iroh heard from the dining room? How could he possibly distinguish the sounds of Zuko's firebending practice from that of his marines? And how in Agni's flaming furnace had Iroh recognized the _sound_ of a mistake being made from such a distance?

Finally, Zuko turned around and approached Iroh, hands balled into fists at his sides. "I know, I know. I lost my root and threw the entire sequence. What—" He took in the old man's clenched mouth and bright eyes. "Uncle?"

The grin erupted across his face. "This is genius, Prince Zuko. Pure tactical brilliance."

"What is?"

"This intricate seduction you've planned!"

Zuko narrowed his eyes and looked askance at the old man. He opened his mouth to ask what that was supposed to mean but Iroh went on excitedly, ticking points off on his thick fingers.

"You refused to come to lunch to make Katara aware of her disappointment at not seeing you. Now, you come out to train before her eyes—" Zuko grimaced in panic and searched up over his uncle's shoulder. There she was, peering over the rail at him. Katara. He couldn't see her face; the sun was behind her. Zuko looked away. Iroh was still chattering on. "—transforming firebending from a threat into an art, a source of beauty and pleasure. Just as you transform yourself for her!"

Zuko gritted his teeth and crossed his arms over his chest as a cool breeze licked the sweat on his stomach. "I'm not transforming anything! Did you or did you not specifically say to me this morning that you would be dining with our prisoner in _the dining room_?"

"Yes," Iroh said, grinning even wider, "but you clearly caught my error and have dealt with it brilliantly."

Zuko wanted to put his hands over his face and scream. Katara had been watching him, was watching him still, and he had made the most basic error possible. She had probably laughed. His ribs hurt from where he had collided with Corporal Sui, aching extra now that he knew Katara had seen it happen.

Because she was his enemy. Of course. Not because he wanted her to be impressed… At least, he only wanted to impress her as much as any enemy. Because she was his enemy. Yes. Yes, she was.

Iroh leaned closer to him, speaking behind his hand. "She could not take her eyes off of you, nephew. I sat there criticizing your etiquette and I do not think she heard one word I said."

"Really?" Zuko asked before he could stop himself. He shook his head and waved his hands sharply as if to wipe away the subject. "No. Uncle, there is no _seduction_ here–" Belatedly realizing he had said this a bit loudly, he glared over his shoulder to find his sparring team all staring with deep fascination at scraped knuckles or a cloud puff on the horizon. Zuko whirled back to his uncle and went on at a lower volume. "I thought I made it clear this morning that I wanted nothing more to do with Ka— the prisoner. I thought you were both in the dining room. I never planned for her to see any of this."

"But now she has," Iroh said, firmly. "She has seen you and your bending both in a way she never expected." Something changed in his posture, straightened. Iroh placed a hand on Zuko's shoulder. "Please, Nephew. I am sure it seems dishonorable to you, but trust me. This is your chance to change the way she sees you in more ways than one. Do what you know is right."

Zuko wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean. How was running drills half-naked in front of Ka— his prisoner supposed to change anything at all? She thought he was a monster who would prey on helpless women. How was seducing a captive girl any different? And how could his uncle justify any of this as 'right'?

Scowling, Zuko shrugged off his uncle's hand and lowered his fists to his sides. "Get her off that tower and back in her cell. Now."

Iroh's expression did not change, but there was a twitch beneath his eyes. Without a word, he bowed and hurried away.

With a final hard glare after him, Zuko spun on his heel and marched straight across the practice area, through his drill team. "Dismissed," he snarled.

They grabbed their gear and fled. Corporal Sui edged away as well. Zuko pretended not to notice. He snatched up his shirt from where he had dropped it and yanked it on over his head before turning to look back up at the observation deck.

Katara was still there, hadn't attempted another of those suicidal dives. From this angle, the sun was not so blinding. He could see that her eyes were wide as she watched him. When she realized he was looking back, she turned immediately away, staring down at what appeared to be the table in front of her.

Zuko narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. She was doing something, though he could not see what. He could see though that her movements were twitchy. Then, she lifted a cup of tea to her mouth and took a deep, slow drink. As she tipped the cup back, she turned her head slightly toward him. Zuko realized with a start that she was checking to see if he was still watching. Which he was.

Katara choked on her tea and bent over the table, either coughing or laughing. Zuko couldn't hear which, though he was listening pretty closely. She was acting really weird. Iroh had said… but he had been lying, hadn't he? That she couldn't take her eyes off him. Could that have really been true? Had she been that effected by… by the sight of him?

Zuko crushed the thought. She was probably just laughing at him up there, telling herself obnoxious little Water Tribe jokes about his footwork. Like she was one to talk with her slap-dash bending. He should avoid her. Go to his quarters and clean up.

All the same, though. Maybe he should just pass her on the stairs. Just to see. Frowning, Zuko stalked toward the doorway.

.

* * *

.

Katara was fairly sure she was going to blush to death. He had seen her looking. Twice. How humiliating. She put her cheek in one hand to hide the redness – in case he could see it from down there – and turned to face the windows to the control room instead. The soldiers stationed around the deck were decidedly not looking at her but she thought she saw one guy shaking with suppressed laughter. They had all seen her cough up a mouthful of tea. They were watching her; they knew what was up.

Katara buried her face in her hands entirely. There was no point facing the world.

Footsteps came, followed shortly by Iroh's voice. "Good news! Prince Zuko has agreed that his behavior was quite rude and agreed to stop training. So considerate." Iroh paused and Katara looked up to find him smiling serenely. "But he has also pointed out that the lunch hour is more than over. And it appears you may have gotten too much sun!"

Katara felt herself blushing even harder. The heat crept down her neck. She looked away. "Yeah. Too much sun."

"Well, all the more reason to go. I hate that we must end our conversation, but…" Iroh held out a hand to help her to her feet and Katara took it, rising slowly. Who knew what might happen if she jumped up with all her blood in her head. When she looked up again, Iroh was beaming. "There is still Music Night."

Katara was finally beginning to surface from the overwhelming self-awareness as they passed through the control room. "Zuko looked pretty mad," she said as they began descending the stairs.

"Well, you must understand," Iroh said between chuckles, "he is a very determined young man."

A prickle-snake-quick chill ran up Katara's spine. Yes. She knew about how determined Zuko could be. "And, ah, what is he so determined about? Besides the obvious."

Iroh choked and had to stop on the landing with one hand on the rail and cough deeply. His eyes were very bright and though he covered his mouth, it was obvious he was fighting a smile. Katara realized her error and rushed on, her voice going a little shrill.

"I mean Aang. His obvious determination to capture Aang. Not me. Since he's already caught me – I mean! He. Ah. Isn't really interested in me but Aang. No! I don't mean I think he's, you know, pitching tents with the other hunters but…" Her voice kept getting higher and Iroh kept straining to hide the laughter and then, finally, Katara just squeaked, "Nevermind! I don't need to know!"

She scooted on down the next flight of stairs, not really listening to Iroh laughing behind her and not really looking where she was going. It was because she was so distracted that a truly horrible thing happened. Katara descended quickly to the landing, turned for the next flight of stairs, and ran face-first into Zuko's chest. For an instant, his eyes registered surprise and his arms came up to catch her.

Then he began to tip backward down the stairwell up which he had just climbed and Katara tipped with him. Zuko's arms shot out to either side and he caught their weight against the walls. Katara could only cling to him, leaning bodily against him. For an instant, they hung there, frozen.

Then he spoke, slowly and with grinding precision. "Get off me."

Katara could hear his voice directly through his chest because she was hugging it for dear life. His shirt was drenched with sweat. And Katara had her face pressed against it. Gross. "Okay. Okay. Trying."

"You're standing on my feet," he growled. "Try harder." Katara did, but her feet were stuck too, her back ankle trapped between his and her forward one snagged on something. She squirmed trying to get loose. Zuko's body jerked. "Not like that! No! _Not_ like that!" Katara didn't notice at first, but there was a pinched quality to his voice that she had never heard before.

"Look," she said, "I'm really trying here but this is an awkward position and—"

Zuko made a very quiet sound, a grunt from the back of his throat. Because Katara was so close, she heard it perfectly, a precise drop of agony. It stopped her.

She drew back and stared at his face. Zuko had been breathing a bit hard from coming up the stairs but now he was breathing a lot harder. His teeth were bared, his eyes pinched shut. They flicked open, then shut again. He looked straight up, not at her. "What are you doing? Just get off me! Now!"

He was in pain. He had hit that armored soldier pretty hard during his practice. Maybe he had bruised his ribs or something. And here she was with her arms clamped around his ribcage, probably torturing him.

Katara redoubled her efforts, yanking one foot free and bracing a hand against his chest to push her weight back onto the landing hurriedly. The second she was out of his way, Zuko hauled himself back to the landing as well, scowling. His good cheek was very pink. For a second, he just breathed and glared at the ceiling. Then, the color faded from his cheek and he glared at her. "Why were you in such a hurry? Where is my uncle?"

"I don't know. He was right behind me." Katara stepped slowly backward until she bumped the wall opposite the stairs. She wasn't scared. Just… a little short of breath. And the landing was narrower than she'd thought. Even with her back to the wall, there were only a couple feet separating them.

Watching her with narrowed eyes, Zuko crossed his arms over his chest. He didn't move any closer, though. "You were trying to escape again."

"I was not. Iroh is right at the top of these stairs."

Without taking his eyes from her, Zuko called out for his uncle. There was no answer. "You were saying?"

Katara's jaw hung open. "He was there just a minute ago! Really!"

"You still haven't told me why you were in such a hurry."

"Well I wasn't _escaping_. I wouldn't have come back down the stairs if I was."

"Smart backtalk really isn't helping your case," Zuko growled. His hands were fisted behind his crossed arms. "Just answer the question."

Katara pinched her mouth shut and said nothing for a long minute. Zuko stared back, waiting. Finally, Katara shrugged and frowned down at her boots. "I was embarrassed. I said something stupid and Iroh was laughing at me."

Zuko was quiet for a minute. Katara started to grow unnerved, but just as she glanced up, he asked, "What did you say?"

"What, so you can laugh at me too? I don't think so."

"I won't laugh."

Katara nearly scoffed and refused. She would have if it hadn't been for the look on his face. There was… a sensitivity in his expression that she had never seen on any boy's face. At his best caring-brother moments, Sokka only managed a good-humored affection, not this, this attentiveness. It reminded her of something warm and safe that she had very nearly forgotten in the years since her mother died, something she couldn't place just at that moment.

"I asked… I asked Iroh why you were so angry. When you ended your training today. And he said it was because you were very determined. And I tried to ask what you were determined about, but I phrased it in a way that made it funny. In a humiliating way."

Zuko nodded and glanced down and off to one side. "I don't get it," he said after a minute.

Katara smiled. "It's not actually very funny. I don't know why Iroh was so amused."

"He has a very loose definition of humor." Zuko, hesitant, allowed a tiny smile of his own. "Come on. I'll take you back to your cell."

"Oh," Katara said, rolling her eyes. She stepped toward the stairs. Zuko stiffly took up a position beside her. "Thanks. I was just starting to miss it."

Very quietly, he chuckled.

.

* * *

AN: If this was a book, you'd probably be about three-quarters or two-thirds of the way through... which means Climactic Action This Way Comes!


	9. Chapter 9

AN: Thank you, reviewers! You feed the frenzied fire of my fanfic fanaticism. And I take the use of that many f-words very seriously, indeed.

The first time I tried to publish this chapter, it didn't send any confirmation emails to me so something in the system may have gone wonky. Maybe this time it'll be better...

* * *

.

No one on the fishing vessel spoke as they pulled away from the flotilla and coasted across the bay toward a sprawling dock. Aang felt awful. His new friends had lost what little cargo they had to that crook harbormaster and he couldn't help thinking it was probably his fault somehow.

It seemed like all the problems of the world were Aang's fault; the Fire Navy bullying the fisher nomads was a new one to add to the list of problems he'd caused by being frozen in that iceberg, but losing Sokka, Appa, and Momo had definitely been a direct result of his failure to control the Avatar state. And Katara being abducted by the Fire Nation – well, if Aang hadn't convinced her to come with him, that never would have happened either.

So it was very likely that he had some hand in this most recent unfortunate turn of events. Maybe Hato had planned to stash the sugar-clam pearls on that little island but discovering Aang had distracted him. Whatever had gone wrong, the cousins were silent and the lack of their bickering made the little ship's creaks and groans seem even sadder than ever.

Aang chanced a look around. Koa sat at the rudder, her expression stormy. Hato was tying up a rope and kept missing a loop and having to retie the entire thing. It was a really awkward mistake to keep making over and over, actually. Really strange. Almost… intentional.

As Aang watched, Hato peered back toward the flotilla. "Alright," he said, letting out a long breath. The rope hit the deck, tidily bound. "We're clear."

"Finally." Koa was suddenly smiling. "Aang, I don't know if sailing will ever be the same after meeting you. This wind is pitiful."

"Do you want me to bend a little more? I think I could probably manage to do it without being seen." Aang looked back toward the steamers. He could probably manage it. Maybe.

"Let's not risk it," Koa said, tying off the rudder with a few swift loops of a rope. "Where did you put those pearls, Hato?"

Aang stiffened.

"The compartment under the stairs." Hearing Koa's scoff, he huffed. "Why? Where would Captain Koa have put them?"

"Someplace that isn't obvious. And don't call me that. You know I hate that."

"Guys," Aang broke in, hold his hands out to either side. "I'm so sorry you lost your stuff. That was really unfair and I wish there was something I could have done to stop it."

Hato clapped a hand on his shoulder, grinning. "We didn't lose anything, Aang. We just paid our taxes. Admittedly, not _all_ our taxes, but…" He shrugged and waved a hand in a circle.

"A tax we consider to be reasonable," Koa finished for him. She pulled some apples from her pockets and tossed them to the boys.

Aang stared at his. Then he looked up. "I don't understand."

Hato hopped up to sit on the rail and spoke with his mouth full of apple. "See, Fire Navy taxes are crazy. You heard how much they wanted. A trader can't make a profit under that kind of pinch. Isn't that right, Captain?"

Koa rolled her eyes and leaned against the mast, taking a huge chunk out of her apple and nodding slowly as she chewed.

Hato swallowed and grinned. "So we pay a little differently. We let them think they caught us with just a little bit of cargo, enough to cover our fees plus a little extra, and when the harbormaster takes it – which he usually does – he doesn't think to check for any other hidden cargo. _Better_ hidden cargo."

"Hapo." Koa was shaking her head now. She hurriedly swallowed. "That's enough."

"What? Why?" Hato flailed his apple around over his head. "You think Aang won't approve of sneakiness?"

Koa looked at Aang, frowning. "It's not that I don't trust you, Aang. It's just… the Fire Nation aren't the only people who don't care for fisher nomads. And… you're a monk. That makes you sort of a moral authority, doesn't it?"

"I hadn't really thought about it that way," Aang said, shrugging. "But whatever it is you're doing, as long as it's not hurting anyone, it's probably okay."

Koa frowned and looked at Hato.

Hato rubbed the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable. "Well," he said quietly, "it's not hurting any _humans_."

Aang's stomach felt suddenly too tight to take another bite of apple and the fruit itself seemed too tart, like it would dry out his entire body if he managed to eat it. "What do you mean, Hato?"

.

* * *

.

They walked together without speaking and Katara noticed distantly how their pace was slower than she could ever remember seeing Zuko walk. More poignantly, she noticed the way the boy next to her smelled like ocean wind and clean sweat, and the way his sleeve sometimes brushed hers accidentally. From the corner of her eye she could see how straight he stood… and she could see his unburned profile. Katara turned her head to really look at him and realized for the first time just how shockingly handsome Zuko must have been before he got that scar.

He noticed her staring and turned a quizzical frown on her. "What?"

Katara shook her head. "Nothing," she said, and then stared straight ahead the rest of the way.

They came to the brig and Zuko took the keys from the guard and, frowning, sent him to figure out where Iroh had gone. The soldier marched off and Zuko locked Katara back into her cell, then paused at the door with the keys dangling from one hand. He hung his other hand on the bars. They were alone. "I was angry because, well for a lot of reasons but partly because I thought you were laughing at me."

Katara frowned and drew herself up to stand a little taller. She could feel her face reddening already. "I wasn't laughing."

He watched her closely, eyes widening some as her face heated even more. He could see it. He knew. Zuko looked away. "I think," he cleared his throat. "I don't know what my uncle's said to you about me, but I wasn't trying to… I didn't mean for you to see me…" Zuko drew in a deep breath and stood straighter, looking Katara in the eye. "I'm not trying to make you… like me. Whatever my uncle may have said."

"Oh." Katara looked at the floor and frowned and grabbed her elbow with one hand. How embarrassing. She'd been staring at him all that time and he hadn't really been showing off at all. May not have even known she was there. The heat in her face was killing her.

Zuko was still watching her. He wouldn't go away. She wanted to squirm but didn't. His hand tightened on the bars. "Do you ever wonder what it will be like when the war is over?" he asked quietly. So quietly, like this was a secret he wasn't sure he wanted to share with her.

Katara looked up, frowning. "Of course I do."

"I do too," Zuko said. "I want this war to be over so much. I want my family to—" He scowled, and it was sudden and violent as a storm. It subsided though and when he looked back to Katara, Zuko's face was grim and troubled. "It's stupid and childish and there are so many more important things to think about, but… under better circumstances, I would."

Katara blinked and looked at him more closely. "You would what?"

Zuko's frown grew tighter and he looked fixedly at his hand where it hung from a cross-bar. The point of his finger traced the short meeting in the metal back and forth. "Try to get you to like me, I guess."

Katara could only stare. Her fingers slipped from her elbow and her arm swung like a limp noodle. Zuko's eyes flicked up to take in her reaction, but he quickly looked away, scowling.

"I know. It's stupid. We're enemies. We can't go ten minutes without arguing. I don't know why I even mentioned it." He dropped his hand from the bars and crossed his arms over his chest. The keys jangled.

"Yeah," Katara said, and her voice was without conviction, a ghost in the cell. She took a half-step closer to the bars but stopped and peered up at him, not sure what her expression would tell him and not sure that she cared. "We're enemies."

Zuko stared back at her, wide-eyed and mouth just barely open. He set his teeth together, perhaps still in pain. "And liking enemies is out of the question," he said.

Katara was nodding. "It would be confusing."

"And dishonorable."

Swallowing, Katara gazed at the boy on the other side of the bars and tried to work out the right thing to say. She had to start a fight with him, she realized. She had to argue and yell until he went away again because this thing that was happening right now, this agreement, just couldn't stand. Katara crossed her arms over her chest and tore her eyes away, glared at the ceiling. "Besides," she said, and her voice wasn't as harsh as she wished it was, "you keep trying to capture Aang."

"Yeah, I do," Zuko said. It was hard to tell without looking, but Katara thought his eyes were still on her. "And you keep helping him get away."

"There's no way you'll convince me to stop," Katara said, shaking her head. This was working. She was getting angrier now. This could work. "You can take off your shirt and pretend to be as nice as you want, but I'm not going to forget what you are."

"Good," Zuko said. His voice was tighter now, harder. "Maybe that will help you remember your place, peasant."

Katara glared straight at him now, her mouth a downward curl. He held his silly shaved head so high, with his pretty face ruined with scars and scowling. "Better a peasant than a spoiled prince." But the insult didn't have any power and, flailing, Katara grabbed something else on instinct. "At least my people love me."

Zuko jerked back a step as if she'd slapped him in the face. Then he sneered, "Yeah, all fifteen of them. They probably really miss you, sucking frogs and rolling around on dead animals without anyone there to boss them around."

"We do not suck on frogs and those hides are tanned, so you can just—"

At the end of the brig, the steel door creaked opened and the guard poked his head in, wide-eyed. "Ah, hem, sorry to interrupt, sir, but your esteemed uncle is in the control room."

"Took you long enough," Zuko snarled. He stalked from the brig without so much as a parting glance at Katara, who stood seething in her cell. She watched him disappear, then glared at the guard, who sat at his station staring fixedly at his twiddling thumbs. With a huff, Katara spun on her heel and settled into the waterwhip form. At first, her movements were too jerky and hard but she quickly settled into the rhythm she'd discovered. Soon she poured from stance to stance.

Zuko was such a jerk. And that was good. It was a lot harder to like an arrogant jerk than it was to like that attentive boy on the stairs. Zuko had no business looking at people like that. Bully. Village-burner. Probably a liar, too.

Katara finished the form and repeated it two more times before making herself stop and lie down. She had to save her energy for tonight. Because there would be no second chances. Iroh may have vanished on the stairs today as a test, to see if she might be fooled into making her bid for freedom too early. Then she would have been barred from Music Night and the real possibility of escape.

Katara shut her eyes and thought about it, about diving off this ship and leaving all this trouble behind in a rush of seawater. It would be the best feeling ever, she was sure. Four days of captivity with Zuko was more than enough for a lifetime.

So she did not think of that attentive boy who promised not to laugh or her dream of Zuko crouching alone in her family's home. She thought of the crash of water coming up around her ears, the tickle of bubbles seeping out of her clothes, and the wild cold of the sea. She thought of the deep silence stretching calm for miles around her. That was familiar. That was safe.

.

* * *

.

Koa and Hato were at the front of the boat having the most ferocious half-whispered argument that Aang had ever watched from a distance. There was a lot of arm-waving and counting off on fingers and stomping and the only words Aang caught were 'monk,' 'balderdash,' and 'poya'… which actually might have been some other, realer word but he was pretty sure that was what Koa had said.

Finally, Hato shrugged fiercely and just stared at his cousin and Koa crossed her arms and stalked down the deck to where Aang sat on an empty barrel. The tattoos on her face twisted strangely with her expression, caught somewhere between anger and sorrow. Hato, following behind her, just looked frustrated.

"Come on, Aang," he said. "We want you to see our real cargo."

Aang didn't want to go. He slid off the barrel as if in slow motion and his feet dragged the deck as he followed Hato to the hatch. The older boy's shoulders were a bit hunched and he hit each stair hard on his heel as he descended. Aang stood at the top and stared down into the shadows below. "You guys don't have to do this," he finally said. "I'm not so sure I want to know."

Koa's hand came down on his shoulder and, when he looked up at her, she hitched up one shoulder. "You're the Avatar. If it's right or wrong, you can tell us. Because we're not actually sure anymore."

"What do you mean, 'anymore'?" Aang asked, but he lowered his foot to the first step and then to the next.

Koa spoke behind him as he sank, her work-hard hand gentle on his shoulder. "Life has been hard, you know? Without the bison-tuna to survive on, we've had to find other ways. Sometimes it's just stealing abandoned ship parts. Sometimes… sometimes I feel like a criminal and I'm not sure exactly why."

Aang shivered. They passed through the few upper chambers and then climbed down a rope ladder into the bilge. It was lightless and the ceiling was low here, so low that even Aang had to duck his head to walk. Seawater sloshed around his boots, easily reaching his ankles. He definitely did not want to see whatever they kept down here. But Koa kept pushing him on into the darkness.

Up ahead, there was a squeak of brass, then a flash and the click and sizzle of spark-rocks. A lantern caught and its light grew brighter to illuminate Hato's face. He looked like he didn't really want to light that lantern, like he felt guilty for lighting it. Or ashamed. But then the expression cleared and Hato only frowned. He didn't look at Aang, just unhooked the lantern from the chain stringing it to the ceiling, then turned and held up the light so that it fell across the sloshing bottom of the boat.

Then Aang saw the body there, bound up in a net and quivering. He did not know what it was. At first, it seemed to be a big fish, long as an adult human and soft-bodied like a catfish. Its sides glittered with dark scales and its mouth was upturned and ugly, surrounded by many whiskers of varying lengths.

But its eyes, so full of ancient grief and longing, rolled in horror. Aang did not know what it was… but he knew it was more than a fish. It clicked oddly, the sound vibrating out its gills – and it was like the way that Appa would groan when he was sad. This was not just a fish.

"What have you done?" Aang found himself saying. The words belonged to a thousand Avatars before him, a thousand voices rising up from inside him. "Look what you've done."

.

* * *

.

Zuko at first stormed up the stairs, but then reduced his speed to stomping and then again to stalking until, finally, he just stopped and stared up at the landing above him. Katara was exhausting and infuriating and… smart. Smart to get mad and drive him away after that strange moment of accord, when Zuko had realized for the first time that they were undergoing the same awkward struggle between attraction and purpose.

And smart, too, to drive him away after she had admitted to watching him at practice and then blushed like a flicker-melon. And after she had practically crawled all over him on that earlier landing.

Zuko looked away at the thought, setting his eyes down the hall. That had nearly been a very embarrassing experience. Anger had saved him then, too.

It should be saving him again now, propelling him up to the control room to harangue his uncle for gross negligence and nearly allowing the prisoner to escape for the _second_ time. Maybe even the third time, since he'd also left her alone on the observation deck. There had been guards, but a handful of benders and soldiers hardly seemed like enough now.

But Zuko didn't feel angry. Just frustrated. His uncle was interfering in something he clearly didn't understand. What Zuko had with Katara… it was beyond whatever simple (and probably dishonorable) pleasure Iroh was encouraging. The very notion of, of _seducing_ Katara had made Zuko uncomfortable, confused. He didn't want her to see his body and be won over that easily – though it had been a thrilling moment when Zuko realized that she had liked the sight of him.

Very thrilling.

But that wasn't the way he wanted her to come to him. He didn't want her blushing and uncertain (though that sight had been… memorable.) He wanted her like in that dream, that maddening dream, when she had come for him not because of looks or rank, but because of heroic actions. He wanted her to understand that he wasn't a monster, that he wasn't a failure to his people or his father. He wanted her to see him not as a great Fire Nation prince or even as a powerful bender but as an honorable man.

And in trying to show her that, he had inadvertently discovered that she was just as honorable. She was fighting just as hard to stick to her convictions and continue viewing him and his people as evil when a lot of the things she saw on his ship no longer supported that. And suddenly it hadn't mattered who was right or wrong because, in that struggle to keep right and wrong straight, they were the same.

And now Zuko wanted her even more.

He spun away from the stairs and strode down the corridor to his quarters. There was no point in talking to his uncle. The old man would put a spin on what had happened and it would just confuse Zuko more, make him more apt to do something stupid. The best thing that he could do right now was go to his room and try to meditate through these last hours before dinner.

The ship was officially out of food. The beetle-infested rice was eaten and Iroh had even disposed of the last of his cake. There was nothing to eat but tea and whatever fish the men might manage to catch in the afternoon, though likely that wouldn't amount to very much.

Luckily, they were due to pull in at Sowachi Harbor in just a few hours and Iroh could go about buying supplies well before his ridiculous Music Night. At least they wouldn't have to eat insects for dinner tonight.

.

* * *

.

"Aang," Koa said from behind him. She had snatched her hand away the instant he spoke in his ageless voice but she had not gone far. "Remember where we are, Aang. This bay is packed with Fire Navy ships."

The water in the bilge was swirling wildly. Aang didn't care if the Fire Navy took these two away anymore. He didn't care if they took all the fisher nomads. But he remembered Katara; his only chance of finding her was getting information in this town. And he remembered all those Fire Nation ships he'd destroyed, all those people he'd hurt. Oh, Sokka…

Drawing a deep breath, Aang came back from the edge. "Explain," he snapped, glaring at Hato now. "Why have you bound a companion animal?"

"Companion animal?" Hato asked. The lantern rattled in his hand. He looked at Koa and his eyes were huge and white in his tattooed face. "The poya are fish. That's what we've always been told. Just fish."

"That's a lie," Aang said. He did not know, had never heard of the poya… but some older part of him had.

"If it's a lie, then it's been around for a long time," Koa said. She moved warily around Aang and went to stand with her cousin. Both of them had to hunch with their heads and shoulders against the rafters, and still they bent at the knees. Koa peered at Aang and the flashing lantern light made it hard to read her expression. "Fisher nomads only started hunting the poya a few years ago. We can't eat them. There's just… something about them… but they come so close to the boats, you know? And it's hard to pass up an easy catch when there's nothing else to be had."

The poya's soft body quivered under the net. It twitched its sticky tailfin in the filthy water.

Aang pointed at the horrific sight. "I don't care how desperate _you_ are – how could you do this to them? They probably only let you catch them because they're trying to bond with you!"

Koa's eyes stretched wide and she clutched one of the supports, bracing her head against the back of her hand. The color was washing out from between the lines tattooed on her face. Her gaze fell to the poya, whose black eyes twitched as it flattened its fleshy whiskers. Koa looked away quickly, then looked back again.

Hato, seeming not to notice his cousin's discomfort, peered at Aang doubtfully. The light from the lamp threw shadows that leapt and shuddered. "What do you mean, 'bond'?"

Then there was an enormous crash and the entire ship jolted, sending all three of them staggering. The lantern crashed into the water and went out, but they could all hear the sudden rush of water as it flooded the bilge.

.

* * *

.

Katara was flying. Not on Appa or hanging on Aang's ankle, but genuinely flying all on her own. She soared over the ocean, then an iceberg, then the ocean again, and everything below her was blue and white and dazzling. The wind tugged her hair. She'd never felt so free.

But Katara couldn't actually fly, and the awareness of this gradually returned to her. The wind grew less playful. She found she could not slow down or speed up. All around, clouds were boiling in the sky, darkening into a storm. She began falling.

And then there was a swooping soft impact; arms came around her and Appa groaned. Aang was hugging her tightly from behind. Katara was safe. The sun shone through the clouds.

"Don't leave me," said Zuko's soft voice at her ear.

Katara looked down. The arms around her were too big to be Aang's, and wore sleeves in Fire Nation red.

She sat up in bed, gasping and already knowing that something had gone wrong. The ship felt wrong, the way it bobbed tightly on the waves rather than swaying as it had before. Katara had been on enough ships to know that this was the difference between the swells on the open ocean and the shorter waves at port.

They had arrived at port to take on supplies. Katara peered around the brig, on the verge of panic. Was it still early or had evening come? How far from land would they go before she was allowed up on deck for Music Night? If they set out before the dinner hour, could Katara manage the swim to land?

She drew a deep breath and laid back on the cot, shutting her eyes. Even if the steamer got out of sight of land, all Katara had to do was go in the opposite direction of the ship's heading and she would get back eventually. And by night, it would be much harder for Zuko to spot her with his stupid little spyglass.

The image of him standing on the observation deck popped into her mind. He leaned forward against the rail and gritted his teeth and glared through that spyglass with his good eye. Wartail flipping in the breeze. She imagined him getting more and more frustrated as he searched. That would serve him right. And then his voice returned from her dream.

_Don't leave me._

Katara opened her eyes, frowning. Perhaps she should… get up and stretch. It was then, as she stood near the door of her cell and stretched her arms out behind her, that the blast of impact knocked her hard against the bars.

.

* * *

.

It turned out that meditation was out of the question. There had been a dozen things to do and the minute Zuko had found the time to clean himself up, he was summoned to the main deck to deal with the Sowachi harbormaster. The conversation had been brief. A skinny man wearing the formal hat of his station had started some speech about searches and tolls on ships that weren't technically a part of the Fire Navy.

Zuko, so close to catching the Avatar and so close to returning home, had peered down his nose at him and cut him off to say, "I may not have the influence to do it today, but mark my words – if you search my vessel, I will have you demoted to a hull-scrubber and I will come back here to feed you that hat, personally. You will let my ship pass, immediately."

The harbormaster had peered at him speculatively for a moment and then, apparently having made an accurate assessment of the likelihood that the Fire Prince would keep his word, had graciously allowed the ship to pass. Standing on his deck and scowling up at the other steamers, Zuko could not wait for a day when he didn't have to threaten people into respecting him. Soon. Soon, he would capture the Avatar and deliver him to his father and everything would change. All he had to do was catch the Avatar.

And let Katara go.

Zuko returned to his quarters and sat before his altar, but all he could do was stare at the necklace. There was no physical reminder of the Avatar here – and purposefully so – but there was that necklace. He had never tied it back onto his wrist after realizing it had belonged to Katara's mother. Her missing mother. He hadn't even touched it, because the feel of that little ivory disk unnerved him. It had been his mission for two days now to go about his business and pretend it was not there. No need any longer, though. He was thoroughly unnerved. A necklace wasn't going to make much difference.

Zuko picked up the carving and looked closely at it. It had been lovingly crafted, smoothed and polished until there was not even evidence of a single knife stroke. It looked natural, as if flowing water had frozen to ice. Zuko wondered who had done the work. If it had belonged to Katara's mother, then perhaps it had been a gift from Katara's father. It looked like the kind of gift a man would give to a woman he loved – not an expensive thing, but a piece of something wild that had been coaxed and handled until it was more, until it revealed the devotion of the man who gave it.

Frowning, Zuko looped the ribbon around his wrist again. Where had he gotten a notion like that? His uncle, probably. His father certainly hadn't been the sort of man to make gifts for…

He blinked and his fingers fumbled the knot. The memory surfaced from being so long buried. The turtle-duck he had made from clay and then fired with his own bending. His mother's pleasure when he gave it to her – even though it was shaped a bit like a komodo rhino (Zuko's specialty) and was cracked all over because he hadn't done the bending right.

"I love it," she'd said, and he could tell by the way she held the brown lump in her hands that it was true, "because clearly you put a lot of time into it. Look at all these feathers and scales! What a beautiful job you've done, Zuko."

Zuko sat staring at Katara's necklace for a second longer before tying the silky ribbon snugly around his wrist. He hesitated, then untied the knot and let out some slack so that the carving would dangle against his palm, so that he could touch it. He should give it back to her. Tonight. He would give it back to her tonight. He certainly couldn't keep it when the Avatar gave himself up and Katara went free. Could he?

That was when he felt the impact shudder through the floor. His ship had hit something. Cursing, Zuko leapt to his feet and wrenched open his door, bolting down the stairs back to the main deck. If they were scuttled and it was somehow his uncle's doing, he'd leave the old man behind in Sowachi this time.

He arrived on deck to find several soldiers leaning over to starboard, looking down at whatever they'd hit. Lieutenant Jee was among them, and stood with hands braced on the rail while he yelled. As he approached, Zuko heard another voice come up from below. They'd collided with a smaller ship, he realized – there was its mast, flying a flag he vaguely recognized. He stalked over for a look, all the while listening to Lieutenant Jee shout.

"…typical overblown ego to hide your complete incompetence! Who leaves the deck unmanned while approaching a harbor?"

"Hoy!" cried the voice from below. "We were set on a straight course and if we hit you it was because you veered in front of us!"

Jee stuck out his arms, scoffing. "You struck us directly bow to broadside! Your heading is for the side of the bay! Where are your—" Catching sight of Zuko from the corner of his eye, Jee stepped back from the rail. "Prince Zuko."

Zuko braced his hands on his hips. "What's happened to my ship, Lieutenant?"

"Fisher nomad crashed right into us, sir. Looks like it's just a kid who wasn't watching the rudder."

Scowling, Zuko peered over the edge to find the craft below slowly nosing deeper and deeper into the water. The front of the wooden vessel had crushed upon impacting the steel of the steamer. Zuko's ship had a big dent above the waterline. The other ship, though, was thoroughly destroyed. On its deck was a young man with tattoos all over his face and tangled hair into which he had buried both of his hands. He looked around the bay as if he did not at first believe, then shouted down a hatch, "Koa! Koa, did you get that water stopped?"

"Sir," said Jee, standing rigid at Zuko's elbow, "I haven't seen any others of their fleet anywhere near the harbor."

Zuko narrowed his eyes. That's right. The fisher nomads always traveled in a fleet and the sinking ship beside them was a small specimen from what Zuko could tell. There should be other ships nearby. "Do you suspect some kind of trap?"

Jee snorted. "Hardly. I think this was just a dumb kid playing around with his father's boat."

It did not escape Zuko's notice that the 'dumb kid' in question was probably about his age. He frowned at the lieutenant but the older man seemed not to notice, intent as he was on scowling over the railing. "Our damages?" Zuko asked.

"Minimal, sir. All above the water line. I've sent Tokai down to the brig to check for a leak but—"

"The brig."

"Yes – that's where we were hit, sir. I doubt we'll be taking on water, though."

Zuko glanced toward the stairs that led down below the deck. The necklace was warm against his palm. Behind him, that voice came again from the sinking ship, higher and more panicky than before.

"_Koa! What are you doing?_"

.

* * *

.

After Hato rushed past him up the ladder, Aang just stood in the dark of the bilge, listening to water rush in. Koa was somewhere ahead of him, standing very still with the poya just feet away in the water, still trapped in its net.

"You know what kind of bond I'm talking about, don't you Koa?" Aang finally asked.

For a long moment, she did not speak. Two decks up, Hato was shouting, stomping around, but in the bilge there was only rushing water. "She's like your sky-bison, isn't she?" Koa said at last, and her voice was barely louder than the water. It was getting deeper, up to Aang's knees now.

He frowned in thought, then shrugged. "In a slimy scaly fishy way, yeah. She's like Appa."

"And she came here to bond. To me." There was a chill to her tone, as if she spoke from within a frozen shell of herself.

"There's nothing to be scared of, Koa," Aang said quietly. "By now she's probably changed her mind about it anyway."

Koa did not speak, but there was another sound, a sound that Aang didn't recognize at first. Quick, metallic, sharp. Aang's gaped into the darkness, taking a frightened step and reaching out with his hands. He couldn't see, couldn't see anything at all.

"Koa? Koa, what are you doing with that knife?"

.

* * *

AN: But seriously, I have to take some time off. I've gotta read Game of Thrones in the two days left on my library rental. D:


	10. Chapter 10

AN: Thanks, reviewers! You make it happen!

* * *

.

The carving banged his knuckles as Zuko bounded down the stairs three at a time. Probably, it was the panic in the fisher nomad's voice that put his heart in his throat and his stomach on the deck. Probably, nothing had happened to Katara at all. But chance tended to work against the banished prince an awful lot.

For instance, presently Lieutenant Jee and his men watched, bewildered, as another fisher nomad and a skinny kid in a yellow turban came staggering up from the hold of the sinking ship. Between them they carried an enormous, hideous fish that thrashed around and wriggled eight short, fleshy leg-like protrusions beneath it. Had Zuko been on deck when this happened, he would have recognized the boy in the turban right off. Jee and his men, on the other hand, had not burned the Avatar's face into the backs of their eyelids and, with the tattoo out of sight and that weird fish splaying its whiskers and croaking, they would not have noticed if Aang had been the Fire Lord himself.

For his part, Aang was equally unaware of just whose ship they had collided with. He and Koa strained to keep their grips on the slippery, twisting poya while the deck tilted under their feet and Hato shouted something high-pitched in the background. But Aang had only one purpose now, one truly just thing he had to do, and nothing would distract him from that.

_Help me,_ Koa had said in the dark as she sawed through the net. And Aang would help if it killed him. His skinny arms and legs were too weak to hold up the poya's enormous weight, but Koa was much stronger. Grunting and sliding against the planks, she led him toward the prow where it nosed deeper into the bay. The ship began to wallow onto its side and they staggered, falling against the rail hard enough to knock the wind from them both. But waves spilled up over the rail at the prow and suddenly they were there, falling to their knees and easing the poya into the bright water of the bay.

The big fish-like creature was still, its gills flapping like gentle wings. The club-like legs opened up at their ends into round fins in purple and orange and a dorsal crest rose slowly along its back and Aang could see now in the sun how the scales glittered, iridescent and olive green. And in the pattern of those scales there were dark designs. Aang had to look at Koa to be sure, but yes, they were the same designs tattooed on the faces of the two cousins.

"Why is she still here?" Koa's face was wet and hard. She sniffed and blinked forcefully as if to shove the tears on their way but made no move to wipe them. "She's free now. Why won't she swim away?"

Above them, some men were calling down questions, orders. Behind them, Hato was shouting something about the ship and Uncle Moambo and 'who's a gulpy-gill now?' but Aang hardly heard any of it. He looked back down as if in slow motion and saw the poya's ancient eyes blink. He saw how Koa's hand lowered so gently toward the poya's head, the smooth space between those knowing eyes. Her fingers broke the surface of the water.

And then the poya's upturned mouth opened and it sucked in Koa's hand and she shouted and an instant later was jerked under the water, over the rail, down into the depths of the bay. But not before Aang grabbed hold of her ankle and went rushing down with her.

Zuko skidded through the open door to the brig and pulled up short, horrified. The row of cells was twisted beyond recognition. What had seemed like a small dent from the outside was much larger here. The impact had jammed the walls of bars into wild shapes. Three cells were crushed completely. A pair of soldiers was inspecting the damage from the now much-narrower walkway. Private Nu tugged his mustache and shook his head. Private Tokai was trying to open a cell door so badly bent that Zuko could see from where he stood that it was hopeless.

And in one of the crushed cells was his uncle's painted screen, wood smashed and splintered and silk torn to shreds. Something red lay pooled just outside the distorted bars of the door.

"No!"

Both soldiers turned to look at him, startled, but Zuko paid no attention to them. Where was Katara? Had they taken her away already? He rushed for the cell, the broken screen, the red spill of… silk. It was his shirt. Not blood. Just his shirt.

Zuko stared down at the shirt, then looked sharply up at Private Nu. "Where is she?"

Private Nu's mustache seemed to shorten as his face grew longer in an apprehensive frown.

.

* * *

.

"Oof! Well, it is a lucky thing I was on my way to the brig when I was," Iroh said as he pulled back the blanket and helped Katara settle into the bed. It was soft. And nice-smelling. She turned her face against the pillow so the big swelling knot on the other side of her head was clear. Iroh was still talking. "I had only intended to apologize for my abrupt departure on the stairs this afternoon but I'm glad I could be there in time to help. Otherwise, you might still be down in the brig while the men try to make the necessary repairs. It's truly shocking just how uncomfortable it can be down there."

Katara was pretty sure that she could have survived being uncomfortable – though she certainly was glad that Iroh had come so quickly. None the less, the true luck had been the way the cells had twisted, bars jamming, latches unlatching. She'd hit the door of her cell and for half an instant been pinned between bars and the smashed-in side of the ship. Squeezed like a milled sea-prune, that was the saying. Private Nu had hurried over with the keys but he would have been too late to save her being crushed had the door not fallen open on its own. One second, there was enormous pressure on her head and chest and the next she'd been free. Free to breathe and move and… fall and bang her head against the floor.

It was a passing thought, though, and a breath later Katara's mind had skipped somewhere else. "What did we hit?" she asked, her voice a bit wobbly.

Iroh tugged his beard and opened his mouth to answer but the door banged open behind him and he jumped in surprise. Katara winced at the loud sound. There in the doorway stood Zuko, panting and irate. He stalked into the room, raising a finger to shake in Iroh's face.

"Uncle, this is going too far. There are a dozen rooms between here and the brig. How can you justify making Katara climb all those stairs?"

Katara squinted at a Fire Nation banner hanging from the wall. There hadn't been that many stairs… had there? Now that she thought about it, it seemed to her that Iroh had _carried_ her up them. But that couldn't be right… Iroh was just a chubby old man.

Though he was a bit breathless, now that she thought about it. He was saying something, something about her, she realized. "…should probably not be allowed to sleep for some hours, all the same. Head injuries can be very dangerous."

Zuko glanced at her. One of his hands was fisted at his side, apparently clutching something Katara couldn't see. He almost looked… worried. That couldn't be right, either. Or it shouldn't be. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to stay here and keep an eye on her," Zuko said.

"Ah! I am so lucky to have such an understanding nephew!" Iroh was grinning and settled a hand on Zuko's shoulder, walking with him toward the door. "I have already made all the preparations to take on supplies but we will probably need even more materials to make the necessary repairs." They reached the door and he stopped, turning to smile up at his nephew. "I am sure that Private Tokai will be able to tell you exactly what is needed, though. All you must do is approve his requests."

Zuko stiffened, and did that thing where stood even straighter than seemed possible. "But, Uncle, I should be the one to—"

"Of course the commanding officer should oversee the ship in such an emergency, Prince Zuko. I certainly wouldn't presume to suggest that you waste time with an injured captive! Why, that would be very irresponsible of me!" Iroh peered humbly down at the floor, but his smile seemed a hint sly from Katara's angle.

Zuko's fisted fingers shifted around whatever was in his hand. He shot her a sideways glance and spoke more quietly. "Uncle, I don't care about that. If there's danger, I want to be here to—"

"Not to worry, Prince Zuko!" Iroh said, grinning now. He began very slowly pushing his nephew out the door. "The prisoner is in no condition to escape and I will not take my eyes off her." He waggled his eyebrows and finally managed to shove Zuko out into the corridor, though the Fire Prince quickly regained a grip on the doorframe before Iroh could shut the door.

"What's that look supposed to mean?" Zuko demanded. Katara could only see a few inches of his angry face through the cracked door.

"What look? A mote of dust fell into my eye. But don't worry – my vision is sure to recover in time." Iroh patted Zuko's hand and then began peeling it away from the doorframe. "But your ship on the other hand will need more than just time to make a full recovery. Hurry, Prince Zuko! Your duty is waiting for you below!"

Katara caught one last glimpse of Zuko's scowl before he finally withdrew, snarling to the corridor. Smiling pleasantly, Iroh latched the door and came to sit at the bedside. Katara watched him over the blankets, blinking.

"My nephew has a strong grip! Now, as I was saying, we were accidentally rammed by a fisher nomad vessel. Are you familiar with fisher nomads, Lady Katara?"

.

* * *

.

It all happened so fast. The water swept in through Aang's clothes, a cool hug against his skin that only grew colder as they surged deeper and deeper toward the bottom of the bay. The water at the surface was aqua, blue glass shot with light, but the lower they went, the darker it got. Finally, Aang couldn't see the poya's body surging side-to-side below, rippling like an eel the way it did, and shortly after that he lost sight of Koa's wild hair and flailing arm. Then, her bare foot and Aang's own arm disappeared and there was only darkness.

So deep. How was it possible for the bay to be this deep? Aang's ears popped from the pressure and his lungs burned. Only then did he think to bend a bubble around his head, but even as he lifted a hand to do it, the poya slowed down. Aang's hand brushed rock and he was suddenly aware of it all around, though how he could feel it he wasn't entirely sure. The poya pulled them through the tunnel and then began to rise toward a distant glow.

The ascent was so much faster, though they moved at the same steady rate. It was only when they breached the surface and Aang and Koa floated side-by-side, both gasping the wet salty air, that he realized they had not returned to the surface.

The cavern was vast and lit by blue luminescent mushrooms that blossomed in clustered shelves on the trunks of thick, twisted trees. There was no ground or soil for the trees to grow in. Rather, they seemed to be floating on their own root mass, forming their own island with their interwoven tendrils. Aang and Koa had surfaced in a small hole in that mass, a break that formed a pool amongst the floating forest. A glowing scum of algae grew amongst the roots beneath the water, and the entire system was a wild tangle of light and tiny wriggling creatures Aang had never seen before. Overhead, branches twisted together too until the roof of the cavern couldn't be seen even though the leaves sprouting from those branches were clear as glass. Little creatures floated and fluttered everywhere, many winking lights of their own.

"Aang," Koa whispered. She floated with her chin below the surface, eyes huge in her tattooed face. In the light of the mushrooms, the whites of her eyes looked blue. "Where are we?"

Aang had to think about it, but only for a second. "The spirit world," he said. "Sort of. I didn't know companion animals could take people into the spirit world." A pang of doubt shot through him, followed closely by fear. He didn't see the poya anywhere.

Koa was the one who put it into words. Her voice was tiny, her breath casting ripples against the surface of the water. "Are you really sure that poya is a companion animal?"

"I—"

But at that moment, the creature rose up several feet away, its ancient eyes glittering in the thousand pale lights. Its spiny dorsal crest pierced the surface and its long whiskers waved in the water before it. Its mouth opened and shut slowly, a deep darkness all that could be seen within.

Aang leaned a little closer to Koa but didn't take his eyes off the poya. "Koa, I think we should probably run now."

"No. Move slowly. Don't look away."

Aang didn't ask how she knew this, but it felt right to him, too. Very slowly, as if they were not moving at all, they backpedaled away from the poya toward the nearest root-bank. Everything was slick with algae, but Koa boosted Aang up and he hurriedly turned back to help haul her from the water. The footing was awkward on the twists of roots and everything was damp and slippery, but Aang felt safe enough to look back.

The poya had not moved. It floated just where they had left it, watching them with those knowing eyes.

"What does she want?" Koa asked softly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I don't know," Aang said. He rubbed the back of his neck and found that the turban had been lost on their decent. The poya began to slowly move toward them. Aang gave a tiny, nervous laugh. "At least she can't get to us up here, though."

Koa didn't say anything, just stood watching the poya and flexing her arms against her chest.

The poya glided closer, casting a sharp V in the water behind it. The ripples made the faint light from below waver dizzyingly.

Then, the poya swam out of the water and into the air. Its long body kept the same slow slithering motion and its eight legs each swiped at the air as they breached from the water. And then it hung there at Koa's eye level, its mouth opening and closing and its eyes locked unblinkingly on them.

.

* * *

.

Zuko wasn't sure whether his uncle was genuinely trying to help him or, more likely, had shoved him out of his own room as some kind of punishment for not going along with Iroh's scheme. Really, why would the crazy old man take Katara all the way to Zuko's quarters if he did not intend to persist in his matchmaking game? Why would he emphasize that Katara was still in danger if he did not want Zuko to worry about her? What was Iroh up to? Had he finally lost his grip?

The swarm of questions was enough to make Zuko grind his teeth as he mounted the stairs to the control room to receive reports from the navigator and the helmsman. When they stood before him, they shared nervous glances, but Zuko hardly noticed. He barely even managed to listen to their excuses.

The fisher ship changed direction without the tiller being adjusted, they said. It gained speed even though the sails were furled and tied, they said. As if a current suddenly rose up. Freak accident. No helping it. They said.

Zuko looked the helmsman right in his watery eye and wondered how things might have gone if he had just tossed this one overboard after the lightning strike. All he said was, "Steer us in. And try not to crash into the pier."

By the time he got back to the main deck, the fisher nomad vessel was just a mast jutting from the water in their wake. The little banner at its peak, the blue fish leaping across the gold coin, seemed to cling to its rope, drooping like an exhausted catch. Jee and his men were dragging something up in the net. The nomad, Zuko realized. The guy was still shouting, his voice splitting and hoarse. He just shouted that same name over and over.

"Koa! _Koa!_"

It was a hard sound to listen to and, in his mood, it pricked brutally at Zuko's temper. He marched across the deck to his men. "Lieutenant, what's the meaning of this?"

Jee cleared his throat and stood at attention but he kept glancing down and off to one side. "It's for his own good, sir. The kid was trying to drown himself."

"Koo-aaa!"

Zuko gritted his teeth. "Why did you stop him?" he growled.

"Ah, sir?"

"That nomad rammed my ship, Lieutenant. Why are you hauling him aboard when he could easily be a rebel saboteur?"

Jee's furrowed brow twisted slightly with momentary doubt. "He's lost his mind with grief, sir. His sister and little friend were just eaten by a fish. We all saw it happen." Behind him, the men holding the rope nodded vigorously. They had stopped hauling and stood braced against the flopping weight in the net. Over the rail below, the nomad called out that name again and again, obnoxious as a rat-gull.

Zuko scowled all the harder but he wasn't blind to the looks on his men's faces. A big part of him wanted to order the net dropped and the nomad left to his own ship. That part of Zuko resented giving a ride to the fool who had damaged his steamer – especially since any chance he had of being reimbursed was presently sinking into the harbor. Not to mention Katara's injury…

But Lieutenant Jee was watching him with that measuring look he sometimes got and the men behind him kept stealing sideways glances at their prince. Zuko wasn't sure what those looks meant exactly, but his awareness of them made him conscious to the ethics of abandoning a fellow seaman to sink with his ship. Oddly, it was Katara's voice that came back to him.

_At least my people love me._

"Fine," he snapped. "We'll escort him to land. After that he's on his own." Zuko locked his glare on Jee and jabbed two fingers into the older man's chest. "I'll hold you personally responsible for his good behavior until then, Lieutenant."

"Very well, sir." Jee's frown deepened a degree at the prod, but something shifted in his eyes.

Zuko understood that he'd just confirmed some notion the Lieutenant had, but he really didn't want to think about what that might be. He backed up a step and swiped a hand through the air. "Carry on." Then Zuko turned on his heel and stalked below to see to Private Tokai's observations. The fisher nomad's piteous cries followed him and he tightened his fist around the carving.

He didn't even see the way the soldiers went back to heaving the rope with renewed force, or the way that Jee watched his stiff back as he marched off. One corner of the Lieutenant's mouth dragging upward, as if working hard and yet irresistably against a great weight.

.

* * *

.

"Run!"

The word came out of Aang's mouth after he had spun and grabbed Koa's wrist and begun bounding from root to root, heaving her clumsy weight behind him. On his own, he would have gone so much faster. Even without his airbending – more evidence that this was the spirit world… or something like it – he was light on his feet and could jump farther than most people. But he couldn't leave Koa behind. She staggered behind him and might have said something but Aang didn't hear. All he heard was the buzzing panic in the back of his head, the bone-deep knowledge that the creature, the poya was following.

He looked back over his shoulder and found, to his horror, that it was easily keeping pace. With a cry of panic, he changed direction, dodging around a wide trunk and ducking under a massive bridge of roots. Koa's foot splashed into a deep puddle and her hand jerked hard against his grip, slipping through his damp fingers.

Aang skidded to a stop and turned back to find her yanking her leg from the too-deep puddle. Koa managed it, but then staggered to one side. The ankle that had been caught failed, and she fell hard against the base of a tree. She turned, sat; her tattooed face was twisted up in pain, teeth bright against the inked skin.

"Koa," Aang said as he took a step back toward her.

But just at that moment, the poya came slithering under the root-bridge, its skin glistening sickly in the blue light. Koa seemed not to notice. Her eyes were shut and she clutched her ankle, grimacing. The poya glided closer, angling toward her face, reaching with its long, tapered whiskers.

"No!" Aang hurried, but he seemed suddenly to be moving in slow motion. His momentum had carried him too far after he lost his hold on Koa and there was no way he could close the distance before the poya reached her. He bared his teeth and leapt even though he knew he would fall short.

He was too late. The poya's whiskers came up around Koa's face and touched her, touched her at temples and throat and brow and the tender scoop in front of her ears. And each of those points lit up with a yellow glow that showed a pallid green in the blue mushroom light. Koa's face went blank as a doll's and her eyes rolled open to reveal only the whites, whites that were a little blue and a little yellow. She held perfectly still for an instant, and then the poya drew her slowly up until she was standing, until her feet floated several inches off the twisted roots. Her wild hair swayed and her slack lips parted. She looked like a drowned body floating that way.

"No." On his knees, Aang stared up at Koa and the poya. He raised his hands to his head. How could he have let this happen?

And then Koa's mouth moved and a voice that was not quite hers came out. It was a croaking voice, throaty and clicking.

"Fish-people forget their fishes and sell the flesh of friends," she said. The poya said. "O La! O Qún! What sorry days are these!"

.

* * *

.

Katara's head cleared a lot as Iroh told her about fisher nomads, how they migrated with the bison-tuna and lived on fish, sea-flora, and trade. It wasn't really a subject that fascinated her and she certainly didn't absorb everything he said, but it was nice to lay there and listen. Lu Chi came with a poultice for her head and an herb sachet to add to her tea, but he quickly went on his way. When Iroh asked about the urgency, the medic kindly recited the Statute of Naval Medical Protocol regarding confidentiality.

"…but," he said at the end, shifting his leather bag from one hand to the other, "it is within my ability to inform you, General, that we have taken on a survivor from the wreck. Now, if you will excuse me…"

Lu Chi bustled off and Iroh chuckled mildly. "So much fretting only for the contents of a sickbay," he said. When Katara only stared at him, he folded his hands over his belly. "Fisher nomads are known to be light-fingered. And I hear they enjoy a good practical joke!"

"That doesn't seem fair," Katara said, frowning. She hadn't said much up to this point, and had to swallow some of the tea Iroh had given her to wet her throat. "You can't just assume that an entire people are thieves based on the actions of a few."

Iroh ducked his chin, slightly abashed. "Wise words, Lady Katara. Perhaps you will tell me, now that you're feeling better, what do you know about fisher nomads?"

So Katara told him. All she really knew about fisher nomads was that the Southern Water Tribe had traded with them a lot back when Gran-gran was young. She still had a few green-stone beads that Katara's grandfather had given her as a courting gift. Gran-gran always said though that the real trade, the reason Water Tribe ships made the journey all the way to Whale Tail Island, was the bison-tuna. Barrels of it, she said, all dried or pickled and spiced with flavors from around the world. And her face always got this distant fondness to it, and Katara knew she missed those flavors the way the village missed the sun during the dark months.

"But I wouldn't know," Katara told Iroh. "The fisher nomads stopped trading bison-tuna before I was born."

Iroh only nodded. "That is because they disappeared. The fisher nomads lost all their wealth in a few short years and were reduced in many cases to thievery and scavenging." He gazed sadly at the wall over the bed. "No one really knows where the bison-tuna went. Some say Fire Nation ships disrupted their migration path, and perhaps that is true, but not every problem in this world is the Fire Nation's doing."

Katara was not so sure of this… but then she thought of Jet. True, the Fire Nation had been his excuse for the terrible things he did, but that didn't make his actions the fault of an entire people. Even if those people were mostly jerks. Not that everyone from the Fire Nation was a jerk… Not all the time, anyway. Katara frowned at Iroh. It was safer not to speak.

The old man's thick shoulders hitched upward slightly and he peered back at Katara. "You may not believe me, but steam-powered Fire Nation ships have never been able to catch bison-tuna. They are wily fish – or were – and prefer to swim deep below the surface when they hear our engines. Too deep for our nets, or for anyone's nets, really."

"But doesn't that just mean they're afraid of the noise? Couldn't that drive them away as easily as fishing?"

"That is true – but it is also true that the bison-tuna vanished around forty years ago."

Katara narrowed her eyes, thinking. "What does that have to do with it? The Fire Nation had steamers then, too, didn't they?"

Iroh smiled faintly. "The Fire Nation has used steam-powered ships for well over one hundred years, Lady Katara. The bison-tuna vanished all at once. Whatever changed, it was not the Fire Navy."

"But how can you know that? How can you be so sure?"

"Ah, you forget." Iroh held up a single finger, grinning. "I may be an old man now, but forty years ago I was a strapping young officer intent on becoming a general. I paid a lot of attention to our technology and I can remember, even to this day—" He stared at the far wall and held out his hands to either side in supplication. "—no new ships! For years we were using the same old rattling tubs of bolts. We had the resources and the science to improve them but did we? Oh no! I must have written hundreds of letters…"

.

* * *

.

Aang leapt to his feet. He had to keep some distance from the poya if he didn't want to get caught like Koa – and there was no telling what else those whiskers could do. She still floated there like a corpse, mouth a grimacing open maw not so unlike the poya's own mouth. Helpless. Aang had to save her.

"Poya!" he called out in his best commanding voice. "Let her go, by command of the Avatar!" The words rang hollow and stupid as they echoed back off the high twisted branches.

"The Avatar," Koa said, as if the word had a foul taste. But it wasn't Koa talking at all in that strange croaking voice. The poya's mouth opened and shut, opened and shut. "The Avatar has abandoned my people. The Avatar thinks the sea-belly swimmers are not important. He thinks he can come back to us now and fix a ship that has already sunk and been picked apart by crablings? Is that what he thinks?"

Aang clenched his fists and set his feet. "I don't know what you're talking about. I just want to save my friend."

"The Avatar just wants to save his friend. His fish-people friend." Simultaneously, the poya let out a long peal of clicks and Koa bared her teeth and snarled. "The Avatar befriends slayers and breakers of oaths! He blinds himself to the people who need him most."

"What are you talking about? What oaths?"

The poya shifted then, and its dark eye settled on Aang. He shuddered. Seeming not to notice, the poya raised a whisker toward him. It was not long enough to reach. "Come. I will show you."

Aang did not want to go. The whisker was fleshy and gleamed with slime in the cold light. But just as the creature's piteous clicking had reminded him of Appa in the bilge, this gesture reminded him of Roku's dragon. He took a stiff step closer, then another. Two more and the tip of the whisker touched his brow.

The impact was like an icy hammer. It was like diving face-first into freezing water and then finding oneself beneath the surface, numb and weightless in perfect quiet. That is, until the voice spoke. A woman's voice, though not Koa's. Nothing like Koa's. This voice was old and sad and so very, very angry.

"I will show you, Avatar. I will show you what horrors your friends have done under your nose these many years and when I have shown you all of it, you will return to the surface-world and you will destroy every last one of the fish-people."

.

* * *

.

"Where do you think you're going with that tsungi horn, Private?"

Zuko had had a difficult afternoon followed by a frustrating evening. Katara, the crash, Uncle, Katara's injury, that gibbering fisher nomad, Lieutenant Jee's measuring looks, Katara in his bed _again_, the bumbling docking crew, the smooth-talking merchants and officials… and now, here was Private Nu marching up from the hold with the tsungi horn.

It was just past sunset, the usual time for his Uncle's notion of fun, and Zuko had only just sent the loading crew down to the galley for a late supper. Boxes of supplies were still piled on the deck. Normally, he would have insisted that they finish the job, but he knew they hadn't had a decent meal in days. It could wait an hour, he figured. Lights had come up along the pier and the fishers and traders were starting to disperse and the air smelled like frying fish. The boardwalk was almost quiet – or the part of it not riddled with flophouses and rot-gut wine houses was, anyway.

Nu stopped, still on the stairs leading up onto the deck, and stood at attention as best he could with his arms wrapped around the big, awkward instrument. He cleared his throat but looked decidedly unabashed. "General Iroh insisted, sir."

"Music Night is cancelled. There's too much work to do around here without wasting time and energy on something as stupid as Music Night." Zuko hadn't let any of his men go ashore tonight, either – and that had won another of Jee's _looks_.

Not that that actually preyed on Zuko's thoughts. He had more important things to worry about than his surly lieutenant. If the Avatar came, he wanted his ship ready to embark at once. Music Night would crowd the deck and get in the way of the crew when they returned for the last of the crates.

Zuko stabbed a finger down the stairs to the interior of the ship. "Take that thing back to the hold."

"Yes, sir," Nu said, and turned ponderously.

He hadn't gone two steps before Iroh's voice came across the deck from the door to the observation tower. "Wait!"

Zuko looked up, scowling and searching for the words that would send his uncle scurrying back to whatever teapot he'd crawled out of. He pulled up short before saying anything, though. Iroh was coming, yes, but he was not alone. Katara was with him, wobbling on her feet and holding tight to his hand. Her eyes were much clearer, but she was wearing a bandage around her head and moving so stiffly that Zuko imagined every step hurt.

Seeing her that way sent a barb punching through his chest. He wanted to lift her up in his arms and carry her back to his bed. Stairs be damned. His was possibly the most comfortable bed on board. Katara could stay there as long as she wanted. Zuko would sleep on the floor… unless, of course, she got cold or something… in which case…

But her eyes were very clear and she was watching him very closely. Her scrutiny broke whatever spell Zuko had slipped under. That's right, they were enemies. She should be in the sickbay. And he should not care any more than was appropriate given their respective social standings.

Zuko's scowl had faded as he stared at her so he had to forge it anew when he looked back at Iroh. Not that that was a challenge. The old man looked entirely too jolly. A few other crew members had appeared on deck, as well, all bearing instruments. Zuko's hands tightened into fists at his sides.

"Prince Zuko, what a surprise! Does this mean you will be joining us for Music Night? And Private Nu, thank you for bringing my tsungi horn! Prince Zuko, would you mind helping poor Lady Katara along?"

Zuko didn't even get to answer before Iroh had deposited Katara in his arms and turned to accept the tsungi horn. He didn't mean to look down into her brilliant blue eyes. He didn't mean to notice how cool her hand was in his or how her fingers curled tight around his forearm as she steadied herself.

She looked nonplussed, though, and that helped Zuko put some starch back in his posture. He peered down his nose at her. She lowered her chin and frowned up at him.

In the background, he heard his uncle nattering about setting up some crates to sit on and someone going to find Fuyun to let him know it was time and perhaps stopping by the sickbay to see if Lu Chi would like to bring up his patient and…

Zuko snapped a glare on the old man at that. "You can't be serious, Uncle."

"Constant seriousness can cause irritability in the stomach." Iroh held the horn under one arm and patted his voluminous gut, smiling. Behind him, a crescent of boxes was being shoved together. "And in my case, it can be dangerous to make something so large unhappy."

Zuko, whose own irritability was more vocal than that of the common stomach, snapped, "The nomad is gone. I had Lieutenant Jee remove him from the ship immediately after docking."

The Lieutenant, who had only just shoved a box into place and settled down on it with a pipe-flute in both hands, only nodded.

"Oh," Iroh said. His smile was gone and he peered off down the lamp-lit pier. "Well, I do hope he finds his way." A gull-rat gave a lonely cry. Iroh turned back and his smile had returned. "Come have a seat! The loading crew can't eat forever, much as they might wish they could."

A few of the men chuckled, and the sound put Zuko in an even darker humor. He guided Katara to a crate and helped her ease down on it. She let out a little groan – not even that, a squeak, as if she was surprised that she would be so sore.

Zuko wasn't sure how the next part happened. He had intended to storm off to the galley, partly to get something to eat but mostly for the satisfaction of storming away from this cozy scene. Music night had never appealed to him. He didn't care much for levity, and never had especially. He wanted to do something useful. And he most certainly did not want to play that stupid tsungi horn.

So it was a shock to everyone, and most of all to Zuko, when he sat down beside Katara.

.

* * *

.

Shock is perhaps not the word that Katara would have used to describe her feelings as Zuko settled on the long crate beside her. Frustration, attraction, pleasure, hopelessness. Doom.

Doom was a good one, implying an ill-fatedness that Katara felt very appropriate to that moment. She had played up the crash as much as she could, limping and even saying some odd things that might make Iroh believe she was still a little off from the head-injury. She had even clung to Zuko as he walked her over, hoping he might figure her helpless and go about his own business.

But he hadn't. He had sat down right next to her and now if Katara tried to make a run for it she would have to fly to get out of grabbing range. And Katara did not feel up to flying. She wasn't even sure she felt up to a lot of bending. For all that she was faking the severity of her injuries, she was still hurt – and that, on top of everything else, was going to make escaping that much harder.

Iroh launched the company into a song she didn't know and Katara only clenched her teeth. Beside her, Zuko heaved a silent sigh. There were set-backs, it was true, but she wasn't about to give up. One way or another, she would get off this ship tonight.

.

* * *

.

Hato had not gone ten steps from where the Fire Nation soldiers had left him on the pier. He had leaned up against a piling and slid down to sit on the splintery boardwalk. He saw no reason to go on.

What was the point, without Koa? Without his cousin, Hato was half the trader, half the sailor, half the human being. They had been together since infancy, since their mothers gave birth on the same day and bundled them up in the same hanging basket strung to the same boom.

And now, she was gone. Eaten by that stupid fish while he looked on and tried to pick a fight about some stupid thing. What had it even been? The sinking ship? That meant nothing, nothing at all. Without Koa, Hato couldn't sail anything bigger than a dinghy. Worse, he had no one to argue with. Sowachi was the most silent place in the world.

Which was probably why he heard the name 'Katara' come from up on the deck of the Fire Nation ship. At first, it didn't register. But then some music started and, after a while, Hato remembered. Katara, that was the name of one of Aang's Water Tribe friends. Aang had gone down with Koa. It had been brave, but he was probably dead as well by now. Even the Avatar couldn't breathe under water indefinitely.

But Aang's friend Katara had only been captured by the Fire Navy, and she was there, right there, on the deck up above. Hato wiped his eyes with his stained sleeve and peered up.

.

* * *

AN: For those of you who read books that aren't about Avatar (:D) you should all read Game of Thrones. It's excellent fantasy writing! (And my favorite characters at the end of book 2, since somebody asked, are Arya, Jon Snow, Tyrion, and the Hound - because how can you resist a bitter man with serious family problems and a burned face?)


	11. Chapter 11

AN: Dear, dear reviewers, I am so grateful to you. Without your comments (and sweet praises and generous critiques) I never would have returned to this story. There would have been no reason to – I know how it ends, after all. ;)

I've been kind of working my way through a major depression. Something life-alteringly horrible happened and for a while nothing mattered at all. All my fish were dead, if you get me. Writing this chapter has been my summer project. And let me tell you, it was hard. I'm not quite the same person I was when I last updated, and I'm even further removed from the person who posted the original oneshot. It was so hard to get my head back in the story and every section was such a strain to put down. I still don't feel like it's entirely up to snuff, but it's here because I can't keep trying to make it perfect. (As you writers out there know, perfection is a trap!)

Point being, through all the heartbreak of the past year, I kept getting these little messages about how good the story was and how excited people were to see the next chapter. And what can I say? You folks made it seem worth while. So thank you, thank you, thank you for sticking with me or for coming back. Thank you for reading my story and thank you for taking the time to tell me what you think. It means more than you might expect!

_Winter, spring,  
__summer and fall…_

Katara watched Private Nu and the chubby medic's assistant perform a slow, long-stepped dance across the deck before the half-circle of crates. It took a great deal of concentration to keep her expression interested.

Interested, as opposed to anxious or incredulous or bored. Really, it was no wonder Zuko kept heaving sighs and crossing his arms and rather obviously turning his head to steal glances at her. Music Night had turned out to be a real snore. Katara wasn't sure she would ever fully appreciate Fire Nation music, but after a while, the steady beat of that drum had really started to speak to her.

Doom. Doom. Doom. Doom.

Every song was about flowers or changing seasons or death and they were all sadly beautiful or beautifully sad. After almost half an hour, Katara's drive to escape had dimmed, smothered by a melancholy that was becoming harder to shake off. The Fire Nation had probably never produced a fun dancing song. In the South Pole, they had the Penguin Flop, Mad Kojo's Ice Oven, and Beloved FlipFang, which was all about the singer's infatuation with a tiger-seal. But the Fire Nation…

_Four seasons  
__for love,_

_four seasons  
__for love…_

Katara drew a great breath but then stifled her sigh. She was still going to escape, she _had_ to, and didn't want to draw attention to herself.

"If you're tired, I could escort you back to my quarters."

At the sound of Zuko's voice, she flinched and slowly turned to look at him. He was so tense. Of course he would notice a change in her breathing. How could she ever hope to escape with the Fire Prince scowling beside her and practically grinding his teeth smooth waiting for something to happen? When her eyes fell on him, though, Zuko's expression was alarmed.

"That is, to the room where you'll be kept until repairs can be made to the brig. Not my room. Some other room. With guards." His innuendo had slipped right past her, but Katara was no more inclined to think on it now.

This wouldn't do at all. If they locked her in a new room, there was no telling when she'd have another opportunity to get out on deck. They could set out for the Fire Nation and she might never have another chance.

"Oh no!" Katara said, struggling to keep the desperation out of her smile. "I told Iroh I would sing a Water Tribe song. I couldn't leave before that!"

"Ah, Lady Katara, that's wonderful!" Iroh said from across the semi-circle. The song had apparently ended as Katara was speaking and her remark had been audible to everyone. She fought to keep her smile. Iroh laced his fingers over his belly, watching her. "I was afraid you had grown shy of sharing your talents with so many strangers but I'm glad to hear my fears were unwarranted! Won't you please sing the next song for us?"

"Of- of course," Katara said. Suddenly all those wonderful Water Tribe songs fled her mind. Her throat was incredibly dry. No way would this work. Not only was her escape doomed to fail, but she was going to make a fool of herself and a mockery of her culture in front of a gang of Fire Nation killers and the smirking Prince himself. She could just picture Zuko's face when she hit the first bad note; he would scrunch up that regal nose and say some dismissive thing like, like…

"Uncle Iroh, the prisoner's suffered a major head injury. You can't honestly expect her to perform when the stress might cause her further harm!" Zuko was leaning forward with one hand on his knee and the other stretched out toward the old man like a command to see reason.

He had placed himself on her right so that the scarred side of his face was toward her. It looked so angry, the skin glossy and ruin-red and twisted into a permanent glower. That scar had always frightened Katara a little and had made the Fire Prince an even more terrible enemy by virtue of its strangeness and brutality.

But now his attention was turned on someone else. He was sitting beside her and defending her. And it struck her suddenly that he must not see very well out of that left eye, that all of his obvious stolen glances had been obvious out of necessity. For no reason she could determine, his words from her dream resurfaced.

_Don't leave me._

Iroh had been saying something, but he quieted when Katara stood up. "No, really," she said. "I want to sing this song."

Aang hurtled through ancient time and memory, unblinking as a fish rushing upstream. He was immersed in memories fitted together so seamlessly it was as if he was simultaneously dying with his old scales sloughing on a worn deck even as he hatched out of a cluster of roe tucked into the safe crannies of glowing roots. The enormity of so many sights and sensations overwhelmed him. It physically hurt, as if his brain had eaten too much and was splitting its vessel. Aang cried out, or tried, and the sound filled his throat and mouth as a giant choking bubble.

Then, in a jolt, the pain stopped and he saw clearly. The surface of the sea dappled above him and he wound through the water toward the barnacled belly of a ship. His body was so slick and fast, and the water held him like another skin. He gave a joyful twirl in the water and surfaced off the starboard bow. On the rail above he spotted a boy whose tattooed face was split in a grin Aang could swear he knew.

"Yorba!" cried the boy as he dove off the ship. He surfaced beside Aang and stroked the scales above his fin. "We'd better hurry, boy. They're leaving without us!"

"Click-lick cluck," Aang said, though he had not meant to.

It was as if Aang had done this a thousand times. He dove gently under and let the human straddle him, gave him just an instant to get a grip on the harness he wore, and then streaked off toward the rising sun. All the sea was aglitter, and shifting beams of light softly cut down from the surface. He had his fish-boy – Toko was his human's name – and Aang – no, Yorba – felt truly happy.

_Many years ago, we loved the fish-people._

For an instant, Aang was confused. Where had that old woman's voice come from? And then he remembered that he was not Yorba the Poya, but Avatar Aang and that he was only witnessing Yorba's memory. Oh yes, he was actually in a strange Spirit World cave with his fisher nomad friend Koa and, that's right, they had been caught by the flying Poya from Koa's bilge. And something in this world had gone terribly wrong.

_Are you listening, Avatar? Are you seeing how my brother loved his fish-boy?_

_Yes,_ Aang said, and his voice was soft and distant behind the rush of water in Yorba's hearing. _I'm listening. I can see. Who are you?_

_Good,_ the Poya said, and then ignored his question. _We all loved them, Avatar. We swam with their fleets, we kept their young from drowning or losing themselves in the waves. We hunted together._

And Aang saw. As Yorba, he rushed beneath the hulls of a dozen ships and caught up with a pod of clicking Poya, their bodies undulating and iridescent in the filtered sunlight. The others each carried a human as he did, stretched along their backs gripping a harness that fit around the Poya's head and foremost fins. The fisher nomads' dark curls streamed behind them like seaweed. And these Poya were big. Not one was less than fifteen feet and a couple must have been nearer to twice that.

_Together, we were all stronger. My brothers and sisters, you see how old they are? Old and happy._ Her voice was sad, creaking with longing.

Yorba's kin clicked at him and Aang understood. "Stop daydreaming, little brother," said a big female with a stripe through her eyes. "You'll make us miss the bison-tuna and your boy won't thank you for that."

"Oh, lay off him, Grawa," said a much younger and smaller male. Rumbu was his name, Aang knew, and his rider was young as well. "He's only just started, after all, and he can't help it if he's still flippy-finned."

"No time for your bickering," said the biggest of them, a ragged-finned female whose rider's hair was more silver than black and knotted through with greenstone beads. She made a sharp downward gesture with one hand and all the other riders tightened their grips. The Poya went on, "The school has come. It is time."

As one, the pod dove.

_The fish-people used to understand us. It used to be the way we recognized our bondmates. We sang to their children and every now and then one would sing back. And once the bond was complete, we could do more than that._

Aang nearly asked, but then he saw. Yorba's human made a sound, a faint click that came to him through his very skin. Yorba heard and Yorba _breathed_. A bubble of air formed against the Poya's back and Toko breathed it in.

_That's waterbending!_

_It is older than that, but yes. Perhaps the Avatar has forgotten that we were the first tutors of your waterbenders. _The Poya's voice was tinged with bitterness, but it passed as quickly as a shadow through the waves. She went on, sounding almost wistful._ The fish-people were not much inclined to bending. Their cousins turned to the ice waters where we did not much like to follow._

_You mean the fisher nomads were ancestors of the Water Tribe?_

_I suppose that is so. But it has no bearing on what happened to my people._

Aang almost asked exactly what had happened but the Poya in his vision had come abruptly on their prey and he lost the power to speak. The Poya had swum deep into the gut of the ocean where light was limited, but through Yorba's senses, he could see the vast shadows, could feel through his very skin the lumbering bulk of the bison-tuna.

_FlipFang, FlipFang,_

_My love shone bright  
__as sun on ice!_

_FlipFang, FlipFang,_

_Your eyes took me,  
__gold stare that shook me!_

_FliiipFaang!_

_I could have loved you so sweetly  
__But Darling, you tried to eat me…_

Zuko wasn't sure he liked Water Tribe music. Katara had sung only a few songs but they were all so… silly. Especially the one about the ice oven. No way would that work. The fire would melt the ice and then smother without air. It was just silly.

This one about the tiger-seal was no different. Of course it couldn't end well. The girl fell in love with a predator known to make off with village children. The tone was confusingly remorseful and yet not at the same time. It was almost as if the song was made to mock the delicate tragedies of Fire Nation song.

Katara sang with her mouth turned up at the corners in a little smile, her eyes flickering in the torchlight. She clutched her hands before her and bobbed along to the quick rhythm. Innocent and lovely as she may have seemed, Zuko wouldn't put it past her to slip barbs into Music Night.

He narrowed his eyes but didn't complain. It was a nice change of rhythm at least. Katara had had to work with Private Cho on the drum for a bit to get the right beat going but it seemed like the other musicians were having an easy enough time picking up the simple repeating tunes. Iroh was having an inordinate amount of fun, grinning like a fool and clapping along to the beat. He even joined in the chorus.

_I could have loved you so sweetly  
__But Darling you tried to eat me!__  
_

Zuko folded his arms across his chest and waited for the end. Surely Katara must be getting tired. Her posture certainly hadn't improved. Any time now she would be ready to retire and he could escort her to a new cell. Perhaps the empty officer cabin down the hall from his quarters. He could post a guard outside the door. That would keep her in place.

The song finally came to an end but before Zuko could speak, Iroh had leapt to his feet and held out a hand to Katara with a courtly half-bow. "Lady Katara, I believe you mentioned there was a dance to go along with this song. Would you do me the honor of teaching me?"

"Oh!" Katara said, clutching her hands over her chest for a hesitant instant before laying one in his uncle's stubby paw. "I'm not sure if I can remember all the steps… but I guess it couldn't hurt to try."

The musicians started over and Zuko heaved a disgusted sigh. He hated dancing. Ballroom etiquette had been a small but disproportionately horrible part of his education before his banishment. Just like firebending, it had been difficult for him to master the flow of postures. Unlike firebending, there had been no foreseeable reward to developing the skill set, so he had not practiced very much and his instructor had despaired him ever being presentable to the Fire Court except as a stationary ornament.

Yet it seemed to Zuko that Water Tribe dance was a simple enough matter. He watched the waterbender struggle through the first verse or so before she seemed to have an epiphany and her directions became decisive. Together, apart, together, right, left, turn, together, apart… easy.

Still, Iroh lagged a bit picking up on the cues as Katara attempted to guide him. Zuko grew more and more frustrated as the old man kept missing the same steps. Why couldn't he just dance properly? Hadn't the old man just been telling him the other day about the girl he'd won over with his skill on the dance floor?

"Ouch!"

"Oh, my sincerest apologies, Lady Katara! These old eyes sometimes don't see such tiny feet in time to keep from stepping on them…"

This couldn't be allowed to go on. Zuko had to call an end to this evening. Katara didn't exactly look exhausted – actually, her occasional glances out over the moonlit bay were more exuberant than he would have expected – but his uncle was surely not helping matters. Besides, the crew still needed to stow those crates and make ready for sea. His men were dutiful enough to avoid punishment but if he didn't go down to the galley and collect them, they certainly wouldn't come back all on their own.

Zuko rose to his feet and strode across the deck toward Katara and Iroh. He hadn't noticed how far they had traveled in their blundering circles, almost to the rail, but made no note of it except to scoff again at his uncle's much-vaunted prowess.

Iroh saw him coming and grinned over Katara's head. "Ah, cutting in, Prince Zuko? Lady Katara, I would complain at the loss of such a lovely partner, but I've danced so poorly tonight I'm afraid I don't deserve you."

"No, Uncle, it's time-"

And very suddenly, Iroh rather expertly spun Katara into Zuko's arms, which he had raised reflexively to keep her from knocking him to the deck. She peered up at him with those huge blue eyes, and Zuko didn't know at all how to read the myriad emotions behind them. He shut his mouth and swallowed and straightened automatically and one of the drill phrases from his lessons years ago slipped feebly out his mouth.

"Forgive me but I'm unfamiliar with this dance. How does it go?"

Sokka shoveled rice into his mouth with his fingers, heedless of the pleased groaning sounds erupting from his throat even as half-chewed wads of rice slid down the other direction. His stomach made similar happy noises and seemed to be doing a little dance under his skin.

"Look, um, it's great that your appetite is back, but could you maybe… not make so much noise?"

Sokka looked up at his neighbor, who was wringing his hands over his own mostly-full rice bowl. He chuckled and shook his head. "Oh Hong, if I didn't make any noise while eating this delicious rice, how could you be sure I was actually feeling better?"

Hong's mouth tightened up in a frown. "You could just tell me that."

"Ah, but you're an _animal_ doctor. You're not used to such straightforwardness in your patients."

"But you aren't an animal! And I'm not a-"

Sokka held up his hand, fingers dotted with sticky rice. "Look, I'm not saying you can't do your job, just that it's in my best interest to not do anything that will throw you off your regular practice." He noticed the rice stuck to his fingers and began licking it off. "Besides, a warrior's pride prevents him from saying so when he's in pain or distress."

Hong sighed and thumped his head against the bars with a dull ring. After a long pause, he sighed again. "It's not like there's anything more I can do for you. The swelling's gone down so I guess the whole, you know, uri-"

Sokka gestured sharply, flinging bits of rice across the cell. "Hong, buddy! What'd we agree about that?"

"That, um, we shouldn't talk about it."

"Ever. That we shouldn't talk about it, ever."

"Right," said Hong, frowning again – or maybe still.

Sokka wasn't sure that his neighbor and brother in treason ever really stopped frowning anymore. It wasn't that the guy was just a sourpuss. He'd been friendly enough when Sokka was first imprisoned, and he'd seemed pleased when Sokka came out of his fever. Maybe this change in Hong's mood was a result of his days spent jailed for doing a good deed.

Sokka looked up at the Fire Nation youth, who was stabbing his chopsticks into his rice. Or maybe it was something a little closer to home.

"I can't believe it," Hong finally said. "I just can't believe the Admiral would even _suggest_…"

He trailed off and hung his head, staring thoughtfully at his rice. Sokka swallowed the last of his food and set his empty bowl aside. He should be gentle. The guy deserved that much. "Okay," Sokka said bracingly. "Which part exactly are you having trouble believing?"

"Your leg, Sokka! It's healing perfectly, the medic even told him the wound was clean. And he still- The Admiral still-!"

Sokka nodded. "Ordered him to cut my leg off. Right, I was there." What puzzled Sokka was the medic's refusal, his citation of some protocol thing that prevented him from doing harm, the way his freaky little Fire Nation mustache had bristled when he faced Zhao.

But that was his puzzle to work out. Sokka wiped the rice off his fingers and reached through the bars to pat Hong on the shoulder. "Look, I know this is kinda hard for you to accept, but Zhao really isn't a very nice person."

"But he's the Admiral… It's dishonorable."

"Yeah, I don't think he really cares about that."

Hong looked at him as if he'd sprouted horns. Sokka clasped his shoulder and peered at him until he was sure the guy wouldn't pass out. "Sokka," Hong said slowly, not looking at him. "Do you realize what he's going to do?"

Sokka almost made a joke, but Hong looked up at him then and the pity on his face made him pull up short.

"As soon as we reach port, he's going to replace the medic. And the first test to be sure the new medic will follow orders…" Hong's eyes crinkled as if it hurt to say the rest. "The test will be you, Sokka."

Sokka removed his hand from the other man's shoulder and sat back on his heels. After a moment, he nodded. For a while, he had convinced himself that he would walk off this ship after all. He had wanted it so badly and had convinced himself that luck was with him. Otherwise, he would have realized this was coming. It made perfect sense.

"We have to get off this ship."

Sokka only nodded. What was he to say? He couldn't run or fight and Hong might be a soldier but he was hardly an impressive specimen – especially compared to the badger-bears who kept getting assigned guard duty. They might be able to sneak off the ship if given the opportunity but they would have to get out of their cells first. And even if they got out of their cells there was still the guard to deal with. It didn't look good.

From his cell door, there was a soft purr. Sokka waved the sound off. "Not now, Momo. We're right in the middle of-"

His neck wrenched with the force of snapping his head around. Sure enough, there was the lemur, sitting in front of the cell door with his head cocked to one side.

"What is-?"

Before Hong could utter another word, Sokka reached out and snatched the lemur into his cell and cast a wary eye down toward the guard. The big firebender was still bent over his little table, and had apparently been playing some game before Momo let out a shriek at being grabbed. He stood up in a rush and came running. Sokka hurriedly stuffed Momo under his shirt and grabbed up his empty rice bowl.

The guard loomed over him, looking around for the source of the disturbance. "What was that sound?" he demanded, his voice steely coming from behind his face plate.

Sokka held up his bowl and pointed at it with his chopsticks. "I found a _bug_ in my rice! What kind of establishment are you running here?"

The guard seemed momentarily taken aback. "I don't see any bugs."

"Yeah," Sokka said, rolling his eyes. "That's because I found it with my mouth."

"And you _swallowed_ it?" A note of skepticism crept into the firebender's voice.

"Well it was half-swallowed when I felt its little legs twitching and realized what it was. You mean to tell me you can stop swallowing things once you've already started? Look, if you really want to keep these things from happening you should really consider changing the lighting in here because, lemme tellya, red light does not make for easy bug-spotting."

The firebender raised a gauntlet to his forehead. "Look, fine, so you swallowed a bug. Just, stop talking, or I'll come in there and really give you something to scream about. Got it?"

Sokka nodded vigorously and the guard, grumbling, returned to his station.

Once he was clear, Sokka opened the collar of his shirt and Momo clawed his way out to perch on Sokka's bent knee.

"What _is_ that thing?" Hong asked. He was suddenly leaning his face through the bars again. Sokka straightened and made some courtly gestures.

"Hong, Momo. Momo, Hong."

Momo stared at Hong with his enormous eyes, then looked back at Sokka and laid his ears back, purring.

Sokka chuckled and patted the lemur's head, "Yes, Momo, strange bedfellows indeed!"

Hong slowly pulled away from the bars.

"Now," Sokka said, leaning conspiratorially closer to the lemur's quizzical face. "Let's see how your fetching skills are coming along."

The Poya were big, but the bison-tuna were the size of whales. Aang could sense their humped backs heaving through the deeper gloom below, hundreds of the leviathans. They gave gentle calls that grew louder as the hunting party approached, muffled lowing that carried through the depths.

Through Yorba's heightened senses, Aang could feel the other hunters spreading out. He could sense, too, the alarm of the school of bison-tuna as they all began turning together to flee. The huge creatures were sluggish, though, and the Poya were quickly amongst them, singling out a target.

He heard the clicks of the lead Poya, the old female, and suddenly the pod was slipping around a single bison-tuna, their lithe bodies darting between it and the rest of the school. Yorba swooped down by the creature's tiny eye and then surged back up very suddenly, only barely getting out of the way before the bison-tuna's huge head knocked into the side of one of its schoolmates.

_Woah! _Aang cried out. _We almost got squashed!_

_The hunts were often deadly. Poya and their fish-people shared the risks and the rewards. _

As Yorba, Aang darted past the bison-tuna's eye again and came up below the creature's chin. Aang felt his face tensed and his barbels rigidly extend and then he darted up to prick the big fish's underbelly. All around, the other members of the hunting party similarly struck at their target. The bison-tuna groaned and fled the annoying attacks, surging up and away from its school.

Farther and farther the hunting party drove their prey. The bison-tuna tried to swoop around and return to the school but the Poya and their riders were inescapable, darting into the creature's path and stinging it about the soft mouth and eyes. The water grew lighter and Aang could see the glimmering bronze of the bison-tuna's scales, the darker dorsal hump. Its eye, when he glimpsed it, was brown and tiny and pained.

Aang was at once sick to see his fellow living creature tormented and exultant as the hunt neared its successful end. It was almost a mercy when the Poya at last forced the creature to surface near the boats and some hunter hurtled a spear through that sad eye. The bison-tuna stopped swimming and coasted hugely through the aqua water, clouded all around with blood.

_That was horrible,_ Aang said softly, swooping away with the other Poya as the ships moved in to butcher their prize.

_Horrible, Avatar? _The old voice came softly to him. She sounded almost amused. _Hardly. The hunt was a way of survival for the fish-people and the Poya. We all ate of the great hunts. Such a pod as this would live for months on the meat of one kill. There was nothing wasted._

And Aang saw, memories flashing past of smoke houses built on rafts, of casks and casks of seasoned salted fish, of huge scales worked into clattering chimes and bracelets and necklaces, of giant bones bent to hoist sails or support roofs. He saw trade, the fisher nomads hauling off their casks of fish and replacing them with trinkets, greenstone and gold ornaments. He saw more and more bison-tuna butchered as the nomads grew wealthier.

He saw, too, the face of the human boy grow into that of a man. He saw Toko dance with a grinning bride with seablossoms in her hair and then, quite suddenly, two children were dangling off the rail like lemurs.

_They look so happy_, he said absently.

_Wait, Avatar. Watch. It is coming. _

Suddenly long-faced and furrow-browed, Toko wore the greenstone beads of a leader knotted in his long gray curls. As Aang watched, the man rapidly became more worn – and in flashes Aang could see why. The school of bison-tuna wasted, their numbers fewer and the surviving fish more aggressive. Poya and their riders were crushed on hunts, but more than that, Aang saw the long journeys through empty dark waters. He heard the unending silence, the lowing of the bison-tuna absent from the depths. In the sensitive body of Yorba, he felt how strangely alone all the Poya felt.

And through the rippling surface of the sea, he could see how Toko's people grew more desperate. There were arguments amongst the fleet, starving arms pointing far off in the distance. One man in particular stood out from the rest, a man with no tattoos on his face, but a demanding air. People gathered behind him in support. Then came a day when the remaining Poya and their riders came together and Toko led them off from the fleet, peering worriedly back at his family. Yorba was anxious as well, confused that all of the Poya were to leave the ships behind.

_It was a fool's idea to leave the fish-people without any Poya to watch after them, to go hunting after the spawning grounds. And foolish to think our bondmates' fragile bodies could withstand the perils. Foolish, foolish! _

The pod traveled quickly together for many days and nights until they came to strangely warm waters where occasional streams of bubbles would explode up from the bed of the sea. One Poya was caught in such a stream and hung lifeless in the water afterward. His rider survived the heat only to gasp a lungful of water and choke before anyone could reach him. Later, one of the smaller Poya was snatched off the tail of the pod by huge tentacles that shot unexpectedly out of a cave. Some brave riders went in after her but only one returned, terrified. The pod moved on.

At last they came to a great bay, where daylight barely reached the sandy bottom. As far as Aang could see there were large clusters of blue-green eggs mounded on the sand, and swarms of yellow shrimp-like creatures scurried around them. The fisher nomads began trying to catch the little creatures but the Poya only followed along, apparently confused.

_Why aren't the Poya helping? Those shrimp are eating the bison-tuna eggs!_

_A few, yes. But any Poya with sense could see that they were not the problem._

_Then what was it?_ Aang demanded.

_Too much hunting. Too much by the fish-people… and too much by others._

Quite suddenly, a giant steel dredge came down and snapped shut around several Poya and their riders. Yorba was outside the trap and darted forward to snatch up Toko before swimming off a little ways. With a resonant clanking sound, the ship above began drawing in the chain and the dredge slowly lifted off the sand. Yorba swam up to get a closer look at the ship and, at Toko's encouragement, surfaced. Aang gasped at the sight of the huge steel vessel.

_Fire Nation!_

_Yes, _said the sad old voice. _They were only eating the shrimp, but they broke many, many eggs._

It happened quickly. Toko hailed the Fire Nation fishermen. Other Poya surfaced with him. Several nomads went aboard the vessel before the dredge came up. Aang could not clearly see what happened on the deck, but something went terribly wrong. Flames flashed over the rail. He felt Yorba's fear and that of the other Poya as they darted out of the way of fishing spears. They had lost all but one of the fisher nomads and wanted to flee but were drawn back to the muffled sounds of their companions still trapped in the dredge. Yorba flinched out of the way of a spear but it caught another Poya instead. Then, the chain drew the dredge above water and they all knew those members of the pod were lost.

_That… that was horrible,_ Aang said softly. _I knew the Fire Nation had been ruthless in war but I never thought simple fishermen would commit such atrocities…_

_These people you speak of, the ones in the steel ships. They were never friends to the fish-people. The gray-hair knew this, but he possessed a trusting heart. So too did my fish-brother Yorba. It undid them both._

Aang remembered suddenly the way Koa and Hato had tiptoed so carefully past the harbormaster to get into Sowachi. He remembered what they had said, that the Fire Nation perceived fisher nomads as thieves. Still, a bad reputation did not seem to justify the kind of brutality he had just witnessed…

And then Yorba surfaced on his way out of the large bay and Aang recognized the great statue marking the entrance to the harbor where the bison-tuna had gone to spawn.

_This is near the Fire Nation Capital, isn't it? That ship must have thought the fisher nomads were spies or something._

_If the Avatar thinks this, he is probably right. It does not matter to my people. It has no bearing on the wrong that was done to us._

_Listen. I understand that what the Fire Nation did was inexcusable. But why are you so angry with the fisher nomads?_

_You understand nothing, Avatar! You have seen nothing. Now is the time, now you will see the betrayal we suffered at the hands of the fish-people. Watch!_

Aang saw. The journey to return to the fleet was long and difficult. The Poya were weary and the last human barely managed to hold to her harness. The pod surfaced many times so that she could rest. For days all they knew was fear and despair.

It was late at night when they finally found the fleet. The fisher nomad was hardly able to climb up the side of a ship, but a hand came down to help her. Aang recognized it as belonging to the same man who had argued so much with Toko, the man with no tattoos on his face. He seemed to be the only one awake on deck. A dart of fear shot through Aang and he was not sure why.

Through Yorba's eyes, he watched the rider explain what had happened, gesturing weakly and hunched in sorrow. And he saw the other nomad's face take on a sly, excited expression. Suddenly, he struck the surviving rider in the head with a steel tool, knocking her dead in a single blow. She splashed back into the sea and her Poya nudged desperately at her. All of the pod surfaced together and cried out in pain and fear, their whistling calls loud enough to wake the rest of the fleet.

It was too late. Aang watched the tattooless man tell his people that the Poya had turned against them, had killed all their riders. Some of the fisher nomads argued that it was impossible, but many more turned on the Poya with a hungry look in their eyes. Their cheeks were hollow and their trinkets were spent.

The final straw was Toko's wife, who shooed her children back inside and then reached down toward Yorba. Tears coursed down her face but there was a fury in her eyes. Aang recognized it but Yorba did not. The Poya lifted his face from the water toward her fingers.

_Stop,_ Aang said. _Please, I can't watch this._

A man beside her hefted a fishing spear. Aang shouted as it came down toward his eye.

Zuko's hand was hot and humid around hers and he kept peering earnestly down toward his feet. It wasn't that Katara was ungrateful – Iroh had managed to step on both of her feet trying to lead her closer to the rail – but the obvious effort Zuko was putting forth made it very hard to forget the sound of his plea in her dream. It kept coming back to her every time they took a step apart and his hand on her back tightened just the tiniest bit.

_Don't leave me._

Katara swallowed and splayed out her fingers on his armored shoulder before looking off to the side where the moon dazzled across the harbor. It was beckoning her, so close yet so far. Zuko's hands were light on her but she wasn't fooled; they were as good as iron chains. The worst part was, it wasn't his strength that kept her from escaping. His hands were so gentle. The one she lightly clasped was callused and tough with old scars but his fingers were positioned around hers so delicately.

"I have something that belongs to you."

His voice was quiet, and when Katara looked back at his face she wasn't sure whether his frown was one of hope or reluctance. She blinked, confused and distracted.

"Your necklace," he provided. His eyes narrowed. "Unless you don't miss it as much as you pretended to."

Katara responded to his suspicion with righteous anger. "I wasn't pretending. That necklace is all I have left of- from back home. Why are you bringing it up, anyway? Just feel like rubbing it in?"

"Actually, I was thinking about giving it back to you," he said through tight lips.

Katara missed a step. She was staring, she knew, but she couldn't quite seem to tear her eyes away as the anger faded from her. "That… that would be really nice of you, Zuko," she managed.

His surly expression morphed into that same strange, attentive look he had had on the stairs. Katara sensed the danger but couldn't seem to pull her hand off his shoulder plate. The armor made him seem so much bigger, so much sturdier, but the look on his face exposed him for the boy he was. "I can be nice, you know. You don't have to make it sound like it's such a shock."

Katara hesitated, then offered a sly smile. "You haven't exactly been putting your best foot forward, you know. I mean, you've nearly fried my friends and me every time we crossed paths."

Zuko looked uncertain for a second as to whether he should be angry or not, but his eyes flicked to her lips - she was sure of it - and he seemingly forced one side of his mouth to hitch upward, just a bit. "I thought that was my best foot."

"You really know how to impress a girl, don't you? Shoot some fire, threaten her family... Do threats and brutality really come off as charming to Fire Nation women?"

Zuko blinked and his half-smile vanished. He peered off over her head and seemed to be thinking very hard. The moon and torch light put a glow on his pale skin. It shined where the scar made his cheek glossy. After a time, he looked back at Katara, genuinely perplexed. "I don't know. I actually have no idea what appeals to women of any nation."

Katara laughed and met his level stare, feeling strangely locked into place. "Water Tribe women mostly go for good hunters."

Zuko cast a sideways glance over the rail and his half-smile returned. "I guess Avatar hunting doesn't count on that score, does it?"

"No," she said. "But I guess you'd still get some points for determination."

"I've been told that's my best feature."

"You have other good features, too." As soon as the words passed her lips, Katara stiffened. "I mean…"

Quite suddenly he was watching her, his yellow eyes close and intense. The music seemed to fade away. There was a hunger to his gaze that made all the night diminish around them but when he spoke his voice was so quiet she almost didn't hear him. "Like what?"

Katara opened her mouth and then closed it and tried to swallow but found she had too little saliva to manage it. "Um." She tore her eyes away and looked down at the edge of his breast plate, near where his heart must be. "Well, you- I mean, all things considered, you've been pretty decent to me... er, while holding me captive..."

Zuko sighed and Katara glanced up in time to see the way he frowned off to the side, his unscarred cheek turned away from her. Before he could speak, she went on. "You're kind of... I mean... Your crew likes you. My- My father always says that a leader is only as good as his men believe he is. So you must be pretty good."

She didn't look at him, wasn't sure she could, but the way he began missing steps made her think he had taken offense. Katara stuttered out the words she'd been trying not to say. "You're also kind of handsome. When you aren't scowling, I mean, which is pretty much never, but-"

Katara stopped suddenly because he had pulled his hand out of hers and instead of pushing her away as she half expected him to, his fingers came to rest warmly under her jaw. He pulled her chin up, so gently, and Katara finally had to look up and meet his gaze. What she saw there startled her, stilled her. Zuko looked stunned and tender and his eyes flicked down to her lips and Katara didn't know how it happened, how it was possible that his neck would bend and his mouth would meet hers so softly. His lips were rough and chapped and very warm and for an instant Katara could only freeze, her mind too blown to process exactly what was happening.

And then, as suddenly as it began, it was over. Zuko withdrew, still looking stunned. Then his chin jerked up as he took in her expression. Not quite sure what he was seeing, Katara opened her mouth to say something, she wasn't sure what.

"Hey you!"

Katara and Zuko turned as one to see the lanky figure clambering up over the rail of the ship. Silence fell as all the other attendants of Music Night shifted their stares from the dancing couple and turned to see him as well. For an instant, Katara thought Jet had followed her, but then she realized it wasn't the same boy at all. As he lurched into the torchlight, his baggy clothes and wild hair became visible. His face was twisted in fury and he raised a quaking arm to point at Zuko.

"Get away from her, Fire Nation scum!"

Katara watched, speechless, as Zuko released her and smoothly stepped into a fighting stance. It didn't escape her notice that he placed himself between her and the approaching stranger. "You should have quit while you were ahead," he said. He raised his hard hands before him. "Now you're going to pay for your insolence as well as the damage you've done to my ship."

Before her eyes, he had transformed from the attentive, uncertain boy into that old familiar enemy. Katara reached a hand out toward his armored back as if to yank him back from some edge he didn't see. But before she could touch him, the strange boy shouted again and she pulled up short.

"Katara! Run!"

And immediately the rarity of this opportunity became clear to her. Before she could doubt, Katara turned, leapt up on the rail, and dove over. The wind tugged her hair and clothes and the dark water sang closer, closer, and then right up in her ears, all around her, through her, nearly cold enough to distract her from the desperate feeling in her belly.

Katara surfaced with a gasp and looked back toward the deck of Zuko's ship, just for a glimpse. There were some booms of firebending above and flashes of light, the origins of which she could not see. There was shouting. Closing her mouth firmly, Katara spun in the water and surged toward the dock.

She never saw the net coming. It hit her hard enough to knock her breathless and witless, down below the surface. The water closed in fiercely around her.

The next thing she knew, Katara was spilling out onto a steel deck, coughing and gasping. She came up on her hands and knees, heaving to regain her breath, and a pair of curl-toed shoes thumped on the deck before her. For an instant, she thought Zuko had caught her again. She very nearly rolled her eyes. Then, a voice she remembered sneered down at her.

"Well well well. If it isn't the Avatar's little waterbender."

Katara scrambled backward until her shoulders banged against the steel rail and stared up, hurriedly wiping salt water from her eyes. "Zhao!" she croaked, the name not even recognizable through her choking.

Zhao smirked down his nose at her, but he addressed the wall of armored men who stood at the ready all around. "A sweet surprise indeed," he said in a tone of bored pleasure. "Take her."


	12. Chapter 12

AN: Wow! Look! Still alive! OoO

Thank you (more, again, forever) for all of the reviews, and PMs (which I swear I'm going to reply to soon, I promise!) and for the outpouring of support and kindness that people have expressed. Thank you so much. I'm doing a lot better now, and finishing this story is Objective #1 for the summer, so expect a final chapter to come soon!

I hope you enjoy this chapter! You may need to back up a few to remember what's going on. (I know I sure did.) Thanks for reading!

* * *

It turned out the fisher nomad was quite agile. Zuko punched blast after blast of flame at him but he evaded all of it, dancing and dodging and saying infuriating things like "Is that all you've got?" and "You couldn't toast a slice of bread!" In the end it was Lieutenant Jee who caught the pest, tackling him to the deck while he was preoccupied with the gouts of flame lashing around him. As his men secured the fisher nomad in chains, Zuko turned to check on Katara.

But behind him, there was only empty deck.

Zuko rushed to look over the rail, scanning the dark water below. There was no sign of her. The wavelets glittered with night lights from the harbor. Anchored nearby was a Fire Nation vessel, a huge shadow that obscured the open bay. Farther off sat other ships, smaller shadows. No splash of swimming, no one on the nearest boardwalk, no Katara.

He should never have kissed her.

Zuko gritted his teeth and turned back to the men still lingering from Music Night and the soldiers who had rushed up at the sounds of commotion. "Find her," he said, and men scattered around the deck. Zuko didn't watch. Instead, he turned to face the shackled fisher nomad.

Hanging between two large guards, the scruffy vermin had a rapidly-swelling split in his lower lip. It did nothing to dampen his smirk, though. Katara's escape was entirely this vagrant's fault and he had the audacity to smirk at the Fire Prince Himself. Zuko's hands balled into fists at his sides.

He hardly noticed Iroh come to stand beside him until the old man spoke in his grim general's voice. "Why would you do this, Hato? You were free to go."

The fisher nomad didn't look away from Zuko. His smug expression didn't change, but something brittle crept in behind his eyes. "And do what? Rot in Sowachi Harbor waiting for another of the family to come along? I could spend years trapped here, alone." He shook his salt-stiff hair and the brittle thing in his eyes seemed to sink out of sight again. "No, better to honor Aang and save his friend from the likes of you."

"You've seen the Avatar?" Zuko asked reflexively. They were the words his mouth had been speaking for so long and they came easily to him even when his mind was stuttering over something else entirely. _Should never have kissed her._

The prisoner let out a sound somewhere between a choke and a spiteful laugh. "He died along with my cousin trying to free that stupid poya. Plan on chasing him into the afterlife?"

For a second, Zuko was falling, clawing at the walls of some internal chute he'd been climbing up for so long. If the Avatar had died, he would have to begin his search over. It would be years before the new Avatar could be identified, and even then the child would probably be locked away and guarded in that icy fortress in the North.

And it would truly be a child. An image flashed into Zuko's mind of himself sneaking into a nursery to steal an infant. He felt ill. Fighting a twelve-year-old was bad enough. At least the twelve-year-old Avatar was formidable in his own right. It wasn't all just luck; the kid was actually an excellent airbender.

For a second Zuko was falling, and then he remembered how skilled Aang truly was. That skinny kid couldn't have been drowned by some fish. He just couldn't.

Zuko banished his doubts and glared at the water nomad. "Maybe I should send you first to scout the way."

The water nomad's face twisted into a sneer and he opened his mouth to speak but another voice, shouting from a distance, cut him off. The nomad stared over Zuko's head at its source. Zuko spun on his heel, already scowling, already knowing who he would find.

"Prince Zuko!" Zhao called down from the high gunwale of his ship. It was impossible to make out his expression from so far in the dark, but Zuko could hear the smugness in his voice. "That was quite a bit of firebending to capture one bedraggled sea rat. From the sound of it, I thought you'd been overrun."

Zuko bared his teeth. There was a horrible feeling building in his stomach. It knotted up in his throat.

Iroh stepped in. "Admiral Zhao! It is a surprise to see you so far west. Have you abandoned your search for the Avatar?"

"Quite the contrary," Zhao said. "I only come closer to catching him. Perhaps you would like to see my latest prize?" He gestured behind him and a hulking guard came into view leading a sodden girl to the gunwale. She raised her hands to catch herself against the rail and the chains around her wrists rattled. Perhaps Zuko imagined it – it was so hard to see – but the loops of hair seemed to cling to her wet cheeks.

"Katara," he choked. Iroh shot him a look.

Thankfully unable to hear this, Zhao went on. "The Avatar's waterbender. No doubt he will give much to win her freedom."

"Perhaps not as much as you hope-" Iroh began, folding his hands into his sleeves.

"Zhao." Zuko cut him off, pointing one furious finger up at the other ship. "You know full well that that is my prisoner. I want her returned immediately."

Zhao scoffed. "Prince Zuko, I believe you were commanded to cease your pursuit of the Avatar. What reason could you possibly have for keeping this Water Tribe girl prisoner, except to disobey that order?" Zhao raised his hand and placed it heavily, possessively, on Katara's shoulder.

"Let me go," she shouted, trying to shrug away. Zhao only gripped her harder.

Zuko's mind raced with things he should not say. She was his prisoner because… because he needed her to be on his ship so that he could convince her that he wasn't a monster, that the kiss had been a self-indulgent and rude misstep on his part and he knew that now but that his intentions were honorable. He needed to show her that he could be a real gentleman, he could if only—

But Zuko knew that to say any of this in front of Zhao would be a mistake. He didn't fully grasp in that moment how his need to impress a Water Tribe girl would translate to Zhao into proof that he was a traitor against his Nation, but he knew instinctively that his loyalty was in question and that he needed to say something that would remove him from suspicion. Something that would protect Katara from the mistreatment Zhao was sure to inflict on her.

It so happened Zuko had the perfect solution for both problems.

"Her father is the leader of the Southern Water Tribe," he said. "And she is nobility in her own right."

"No!" Katara shouted. She jerked out from under Zhao's hand and made some gesture with her chained hands, swinging her entire body in a smooth arc. A water whip snaked up off the deck and snapped the face of the guard holding her and she leapt onto the gunwale, prepared to dive.

Zuko's heart pounded. His mouth opened of its own accord.

Katara dove from the gunwale just as she had from Zuko's ship days ago, yet now he could see past her insolence to the art of her movement, to the daring it took to trust the water to catch her.

It would have been a perfect dive, but just as Katara leapt from the gunwale, Zhao's hand snapped out and caught the chain trailing from her manacles. Katara sailed a short distance before her wrists jerked out from under her and her entire body flipped and slammed into the side of the ship with a ringing thump. She dangled limp from her arms as Zhao's men hurried to drag her up.

Perhaps it was the sound of chain links clanking on steel, but Zuko could swear he heard Katara say, "How could you?"

Zhao extricated himself and crossed his arms, smirking again. "Well well," he said. "And you planned to use this hostage to grind the naval rebellion to a halt? I have to admit I'm impressed, Prince Zuko; I never would have expected this kind of strategy from you. Honestly," he said, chuckling, "I almost thought you were keeping this one for much less… honorable reasons."

Zuko stood frozen. Was he implying Zuko's ongoing hunt for the Avatar, or some other dishonor? "Now you know," he said stiffly. "I want my prisoner returned."

"Sadly," Zhao said in a gleeful tone, "the effort to capture the Avatar supersedes any individual's petty quest for honor. But I assure you, Prince Zuko-" He paused to watch Katara's body as she was heaved over the steel rail and dragged upright by his men. Her head lolled forward like a doll's. Zhao looked pointedly back at Zuko. "I'll return her to you when I've had my use of her."

Zuko drew breath to shout and choked. His face felt suddenly hot from the unique combination of shame and horror and fury that presently flooded him. "She's of noble blood! Protocol dictates that she receives the proper respect for her station!"

"And I shall give it to her," Zhao said. "I shall treat her with all the respect she deserves as a member of the former chieftaincy of a fallen nation of savage weaklings, not to mention a rebel and criminal against the Fire Nation."

Zuko's hands kept balling into tighter fists, his blunt nails digging into his palms as he realized what a terrible error he had made.

Zhao ordered his ship moved farther out into the harbor and turned back to Zuko as his engines fired up. "I had thought I might sail north at daybreak and continue searching for the Avatar but, now that I hold all of his friends as well as his bison hostage, I might just wait for him to come to me. When I stand before the Fire Lord to receive his thanks for this service, I'll be sure to mention your cooperation."

And then his voice was lost in the rumble of engines and churning water as the ship moved away.

* * *

Katara hung from the gripping hands of Fire Nation soldiers. She wasn't unconscious but she kind of wished she was. Her shoulders hurt from where they had wrenched with her sudden weight. Her back had a raw, slapped feeling to it from hitting the side of the ship. And her head hurt quite a lot. First there was that collapsed cell from the collision with the fisher nomad, and now there was another knot rising on the back of her head from hitting Zhao's ship.

But the physical pain was nothing beside being trapped aboard that ship, especially now that Zhao knew she was Hakoda's daughter. How could Zuko do this to her? She had thought, for some reason, he understood. She had thought he would keep her secret. Was that all a game? A trick to make her like him, to convince her to- to let him kiss her? Oh Tui, he had kissed her in front of Iroh and Nu and all the other men at Music Night. Rage and hot shame filled her at having allowed herself to be deceived and used that way, and so publicly.

She dangled from those gripping hands and pretended to be boneless as she hung her head, humiliated and helplessly furious. And, if she was honest with herself, terrified.

"I can recognize false unconsciousness, Princess," Zhao said.

Katara gritted her teeth and looked up slowly. "I am not a princess. My name is Katara."

Zhao was smirking. His eyes trailed over her idly in a way that made her skin crawl. "No, I suppose you aren't a princess. Though you are pretty enough, no lady has that kind of posture." He emphasized the word 'lady' as if to say that Katara not only failed to stand like a lady, but that her bearing suggested something antithetical to ladyness. Something crude. He looked past her at his guards. "Take her to the cells. Throw her in next to that traitor and the Water Tribe boy." His eyes crept back to her before he turned away, and his smirk widened into something truly chilling. "For now."

Frightened and angry though she was, Katara couldn't quite bring herself to struggle. The impact had knocked a lot of the fight out of her and she only wanted to lie down for a while and maybe get into some dry clothes. She also wanted to see if this Water Tribe boy was actually Sokka. If it was Sokka, then his identity as chief's son was as good as revealed, too. But maybe it wouldn't get that far. Maybe they could hatch an escape plan together. Maybe she wouldn't be around long enough to find out what Zhao intended to do later. Maybe—

But at that moment, just as she was being pushed through the door and down into the belly of the ship, she heard Appa groan from below. That sound humming through the steel made her draw a deep breath against the tightness of the stairwell. If Appa was here, then Sokka probably was too. And Fire Nation cells were so hard to get out of.

Katara's heart sank the deeper she descended into the ship until, finally, they arrived at the brig. It was almost comforting, the familiar shapes of bars. A part of her expected to see Zuko and she mentally chastised herself when she realized she was disappointed that he wasn't there.

In fact, there was only one person in the brig – a guard napping in his chair by the door. All of the cells stood empty.

The guard pushing her along stopped and made a shocked sound before slapping the sleeping guard's helmet. The firebender jerked awake to find the other solders standing over him. "Where are the prisoners?" one demanded. A cry went up. Escaped prisoners. The guards who had escorted Katara all hurried off.

A giddy thrill ran through her. Sokka had already worked it out! He had escaped and so would she and they would find Aang and everything would be okay again. Everything was going to be okay!

But then the last remaining guard locked her in a cell and Katara realized she had come just a little too late. Sokka had escaped without her.

* * *

"Appa, if I have to say 'shh' one more time, Hong and Momo and I are going to fly off and leave you with Admiral War-Crimes."

The bison made a soft huffing sound and Sokka went on cutting furiously at the ropes. They were thick cords strung snug over Appa's back and tied through huge iron rings bolted to the deck of the hold. It was beyond him who had decided to use bowlines to tie down an animal this strong. Honestly, hadn't the Fire Nation heard of the clove hitch? Appa had struggled and tightened those knots and now they were solid as rocks, impossible to wheedle loose.

Sokka knew. He'd tried. Like any proper sailor, he knew better than to just slice a good rope when the knot can be untied. Now, here he was, reduced (by the Fire Nation) to sawing through a really nice length of rope, pausing every now and then to wince over his leg.

"I think I hear footsteps," Hong whispered in his high-pitched breathy whisper-voice. "Are you done yet?" He was by the door, allegedly looking out for guards but mostly just staying out of Sokka's way. He'd cut himself trying to free Appa and, in the interest of remaining the only seriously injured person present, Sokka had taken over.

"Really close now," Sokka said, even though there were about five more heavy-duty lines to cut before Appa would really be able to move. Momo was gnawing through one, and he had some pretty sharp teeth so he wasn't doing a bad job, but it was still going to take a while. "Just tell me if you see anyone at the end of the corridor."

"Okay," Hong squeaked. He sounded near tears.

Sokka hadn't told him yet that he wasn't sure how they were going to get out of here after freeing Appa. There was a set of mechanical arms attached to the ceiling and the walls that might be some kind of big hinges, but Sokka wasn't sure where the controls were. He thought that the ceiling probably opened out onto the main deck, since there wasn't a door big enough for Appa to have come in through otherwise. He kind of hoped that part of their escape would work itself out.

Hong didn't need to know that, though. The poor guy had been having a heart attack since they left their cells. Sokka had been afraid he would burst out crying when they were tip-toeing past the guard, but they'd made it. Now they were really close to escaping, theoretically, and if they could get maybe ten minutes without guards interrupting, Appa could, hopefully, get them out of here. Then they could find Aang, wherever he was, rescue Katara from Zuko, and get back on their way to the Northern Water Tribe. And, whatever, maybe drop Hong off in the Earth Kingdom somewhere. The guy was not cut out for death-defying adventure any more than for military service.

"Sokka!" Hong forced the name, by the sound of it, through a serious strangulation. Sokka looked up to find him pointing with a quivering thumb at the door, which was against his back, now. He had eased it shut and was leaning hard against it, gripping the locking wheel in place. His mouth formed words that he had no voice for. "Guards outside!"

Then the locking wheel jerked against Hong's grip and someone started banging on the other side of the door.

* * *

Aang blinked awake and immediately clutched his eye where the spear had struck Yorba. It was a genuine surprise to find the eye was still there. His vision was fine, but there was a pain radiating up from the back of his skull, a pain that throbbed and faded slowly back to nothing.

"Do not be afraid, Avatar. You are unharmed."

Aang looked up to find the poya still hovering, its long body waving slowly as if in an invisible current. Each of its eight fleshy fins swayed in gentle ripples. Its whiskers still touched Koa's blank face, still lit her up with the strange yellow light of the poya's energy. It still spoke with Koa's mouth as she floated there like a corpse.

"Now do you see, Avatar? Do you understand why the fish-people must die?"

Aang, glancing between Koa and the poya, lowered his hand from his eye. "I understand why you're angry. What happened to your people was terrible. And I think you're right to be angry with me, too. The world's been without an Avatar for one hundred years and a lot of things have been thrown out of balance. The fisher nomads got greedy and over-hunted the bison tuna when the Fire Nation was already damaging their breeding grounds. It wasn't right, and if I was there I would have done something to prevent what finally happened to the poya."

"Easy words," the poya said, its fins opening and closing a little more rapidly. "What will you do now? Will you kill the oath-breakers and repay the dept of death that is owed my people?"

"No," Aang said. He climbed to his feet. "What the fisher nomads did was wrong, but there's been too much death already. The way the fisher nomads lived then is not the way they live now. They've suffered for their mistakes, too."

"Silly suffering that could have been avoided if they had honored the old way. You would side with fools over the poya, who were innocent? Who were wronged?"

"No! I'm not taking their side. I'm saying the poya and the fisher nomads need to come together again and work out a new agreement. You have to work for peace because trying to even the score will only lead to more suffering until one or the other side is extinct."

"Poya are nearly extinct now! You saw how they killed Yorba. It was the same with every young poya who came to play with the young singers. It was the same with this poya whose skin I have borrowed. She was driven from the ships when she came to talk to this fish-person here." Koa's head gave a sick twitch to one side, her mouth still hanging open in that unnerving way between bursts of speech. "Over and over she came and finally this fish-person threw a net around her and dragged her up onto the hot dry deck and into the ship's suffocating belly. She would have killed this poya and dried her flesh and sold it for others to eat."

Aang gaped, horrified. He had suspected something along those lines was the plan when Koa and Hato showed him the poya, and it had thrown him into a fit of rage to see a companion animal treated that way. Yet Koa had kept the poya alive. She had waited and held it, a miserable captive, but a living one. "Koa didn't understand what the poya are. I don't think she would have killed you… her. Wait, if you aren't this poya, who are you?"

Again, the creature ignored his question. "You do not know what she would have done, Avatar. Without you there, perhaps she would have slipped to depravity like the rest of her people."

"I may not know," Aang snapped, crossing his arms, "but neither do you! Koa isn't heartless, but her people are in trouble. Maybe if you listened to what she had to say, you'd see that I'm right and Koa never wanted to hurt any poya!"

The poya, or whatever it was, made a soft, annoyed clicking sound. "Very well. I will listen to what this Koa has to say and then, because the Avatar has so clearly decided what he thinks is right, _I_ will decide her fate." One by one her whiskers withdrew from around Koa's tattooed face. When the last plucked away, Koa collapsed from where she had been floating and fell to her hands and knees on the twisted roots, gasping.

Aang reached for her but she waved him back. "I saw," she choked, sitting back. "I saw everything." With streaming eyes, she looked up at the poya. "My people tell the story differently."

* * *

Zuko stood stiff and very still for a long moment after Zhao's ship pulled away. Behind him, Iroh shuffled and quietly sent Lieutenant Jee to call off the search for Katara. For the moment, the fisher nomad was blessedly silent.

Zuko was still in the way a firecracker holds still once the lit fuse has sparked its way inside and the impending explosion is, for an instant, stifled.

Zhao knew as well as he did that his father would see this episode as weakness, not cooperation. Weak to let his prisoner escape, weak to let her be taken by another man, weak to stand for Zhao's insults, and weak to have failed where Zhao now came so close to succeeding. If he was to be believed, he held all of the Avatar's friends captive, including Katara's buffoon brother and the flying bison. How could that be true? Yet the fisher nomad had just said that the Avatar had sailed alongside him and his cousin. It all made sense, though Zuko didn't want it to. And the Avatar had gone under with the other fisher nomad to who knows where for who knows how long.

"Let me go."

Zuko turned slowly to find his captive glaring at him, his split lip not smirking anymore.

"Let me go and I'll get her away from him," he said.

Zuko's fists had never relaxed and he raised them slightly as he turned to folly face the fisher nomad. He did not punch him in his stupid interfering head like he wanted to, though. "If it weren't for you, she would be safe right now. You can think about that in your cell." And with a sharp gesture, Zuko sent the guards to the brig, dragging the struggling nomad between them.

Zuko turned back to watch Zhao's ship creep like a big black oil slick into the moonlit bay. Behind him, Iroh cleared his throat and spoke with the calculating tone he only ever used in dire moments. "Perhaps it would not be such a bad idea to let Hato go free, Prince Zuko. He enabled her to escape from us, after all."

Zuko spoke stiffly, without looking away from the distant ship. "We were being careless. We were in the middle of Music Night and our sentries were distracted." Maybe by the sight of their prince pressing a kiss on a reluctant Water Tribe prisoner. _So stupid._ Zuko's face burned, but he drove on. "Zhao will not make those mistakes. His ship will be well guarded. It'll be nearly impossible for that blundering fisher nomad, who couldn't rescue his own foot from his mouth, to save Katara."

"Then what will you do, Prince Zuko?"

Zuko laid his hands carefully on the gunwale, careful to be gentle, careful not to scorch. With the Avatar occupied and all of his friends detained, there was no other way to save Katara from Zhao. There was only one way.

Zuko turned his back to Zhao's ship and met his uncle's eye. "I'm going to bed. No one is to disturb me for any reason."

"You do not want to confront Zhao?"

"Uncle, confronting Zhao is as good as a challenge to the Fire Nation itself. I can't be branded a traitor if I ever want to go home."

Iroh was strangely silent, and scrutinized Zuko as if waiting for something.

Zuko huffed and shook his head, glaring at the deck. "I cannot openly challenge Zhao, and even if I could, we have far fewer men and our ship is a tub beside his. It's a battle that couldn't be won."

"Yes," Iroh said, "But you are still Prince of the Fire Nation. Zhao's men are still your subjects."

Zuko stared at his uncle, shocked. "You think they would turn against the Admiral of the Fire Navy? For me?"

"Perhaps. It is difficult to predict what people will do."

Zuko looked back at the deck for a long moment, trying to picture Zhao's soldiers answering his call. All he saw was his own men slaughtered and his ship sunk. "I don't think they would. Not for a banished prince with no honor." At last, he scowled and turned to go, and he did not look back as he repeated his words from before. "No one is to disturb me."

Iroh sighed but said nothing. From Zhao's ship, the noises changed. The engine cut and there came some faint shouts echoing across the bay. Zuko didn't turn to look, sick of the sight of that ship on the water. He only marched inside and up the stairs to his cabin.

It was only Iroh who saw what happened then.

* * *

"Hurry, Sokka! I can't hold them back much longer!"

Sokka was hurrying. It wasn't his fault that the guard was a lackluster knife-sharpener. It wasn't his fault the Fire Nation equipped their ships with really nice, densely bound rope. He was sawing as fast as he could but Momo was on his head, yanking on his ears and wolftail and it was very distracting. Appa kept groaning and shuffling his feet under his huge body, jerking the ropes tight and then letting them loose.

"Appa, buddy, that would be really helpful if you'd just pick one way and stick with it but – Ow! Momo, that's my eye!"

He dropped the knife and swiped at the lemur but the pest had already leapt up to Appa's saddle. Infuriated, Sokka struggled to follow him.

From the door there were some blasts and a faint sizzling sound and Hong came running across the hold, screaming and rubbing at his backside.

"Fire! Fire! They're going to melt the door!"

Sokka had time to turn and look at the glowing red door before it blasted inward, clanging against the wall. Fire Nation soldiers flooded into the room.

Halfway between the floor and Appa's saddle, Sokka just scrambled the rest of the way up, doing his best to ignore his throbbing leg. "Appa, I know I didn't get through all the ropes but now really would be a good time to help! Yip yip!"

The bison roared and strained and there was a painful snap of a nice rope being ruined. A cry went up among the soldiers and Appa turned, flipping a burst of air with his tail that blasted a handful of armored men back through the door and into the far wall. Sokka spotted Hong still running around, clutching the seat of his pants and leaned over the edge of the saddle toward him.

"Hong, great dance! We've gotta go!"

Hong scrambled across the hold and leapt for Sokka's hand. He missed and fell back to the floor and barely rolled out of the way as Appa turned to flip his tail again, this time blasting through the doors in the ceiling.

"Wait!" Hong cried, and Sokka didn't see what happened then because at that moment Appa pushed off from the deck. Sokka barely looked up in time to see the bent hold door looming toward his face. He ducked down into the saddle and then there was a burst of cool air and they were out in the night sky. They were free. Sokka raised his arms high as they ascended. He'd never been so happy to be flying.

"Help me!" came Hong's muffled voice.

Sokka looked over the side of the saddle and found Hong latched with arms and legs around one of Appa's trunk-like legs. His eyes were pinched tight and the expression on his face was one of sheer horror.

"Oh Agni, I don't want to die!"

"Yup!" Sokka said as he leaned down over the saddle to grab Hong's hand. "Appa can have that effect initially but you really come to love him with time."

From the deck of Zuko's steamer, Iroh watched the bison ascend against the hazy outline of the moon, and his sharp eyes picked out two figures riding in the saddle.

He let out a sigh of relief. At least Katara was safe. It was disappointing that Zuko was not ready to follow his convictions and openly stand against his father's lackeys, but there was still time for him to make the right decision. There was still time for Zuko to recognize on his own what was right, and what was wrong.

* * *

Katara sat on the floor beside the pallet in her cell, shivering in her wet clothes and watching some kind of fat, glossy insect creep out from under the bucket in the far corner. Zhao's brig smelled awful, like blood and stale urine and rotting food. The pallet was stained and had a distinct musty smell. Katara couldn't bring herself to touch it, so she had just wrapped up in the thin blanket and sat on the floor with her back against the hull, listening to the water rush past the steel.

The guard who had replaced the napper from before sat stiffly at his station, apparently determined to do a better job than his predecessor. He was a firebender and his face was hidden behind the face plate of his helmet, but from the angle of his head, Katara was fairly sure he was watching her. The helmet made it seem like he never blinked, never flinched. He refused to respond when Katara asked him his name or what that banging sound had been. He just watched her in unblinking, hardly-breathing silence.

So that was unnerving.

The water outside slowed against the ship and Katara could feel the anchor dropping. As the ship stilled, the water came in the easy wavelets of a closed harbor. They had not yet gone to sea. It was the only soothing thing about this situation.

Well, except that Sokka and Appa had apparently gotten away. After the loud blast, the distant sounds of running boots had stopped. Katara tried to be happy that her friends at least were safe, but it was hard not to feel sorry for herself. It had taken everything she had to escape from Zuko and she'd just landed herself in a worse situation.

Maybe. At least Katara knew without a doubt that Zhao was her enemy and meant to do her harm. With Zuko, everything was confusing and complicated. He had seemed so… so tender and uncertain and as conflicted as Katara felt. And then he had kissed her so suddenly and it had been… surprising and strange and… good. Katara might have kissed him again, given the chance.

Everything was different now, though. Zuko had turned against her in a heartbeat and not only left her with Zhao, but exposed her father's vulnerability. Gran-gran had warned her that boys sometimes did and said things they didn't mean just to get under a girl's parka. Was that what Zuko had done? He had always been so artless and clumsy, quick to fall back on anger…

Not like Jet, when he wanted to use her waterbending to fill that reservoir. That boy had had her wrapped around his little finger from the beginning with his dashing rebellion and his personal tragedy. Zuko, she realized now, had never tried to tell her about his scar, just his honor. Over and over, back to his lost honor.

She huffed and buried her chin in the scratchy wool over her knees. Maybe he was confused about what the word 'honor' meant.

The main door clanked open and two more soldiers, a firebender and a guard with tiny mustachios entered, talked briefly with the bender who had been watching her, and then came to her cell with the key. Katara struggled to her feet. She was stiff from all the injuries of the day, and from being cold and uncomfortable for the past hour.

"What do you want?" she demanded.

Neither of them met her eyes, both apparently focusing on the keys, the jarring screech of the lock. Katara crouched and took on the closest thing to a bending pose she could with her wrists shackled together. She managed to draw enough water out of her clothes to whip the soldier with the keys in the middle of his forehead but the other bender rushed past and got a grip on her chain, jerking her arms high out of her posture.

"I don't want to hurt you, kid. Just come quietly so I don't have to," he said in a clipped voice that rang hollowly out from inside his helmet.

Katara glared at that expressionless plate, got a grip on her own chains, and yanked back. The firebender was much bigger than her, though. It was like yanking on a chain bolted to a stone wall. Katara tried not to let her discouragement show. "Why should I make this easy for _you_ when I don't even know what's going on?"

The firebender sighed and tugged her forward toward the cell door. Katara braced her feet on the threshold but he pulled her right through. Frustrated, she followed him out and kicked the back of his knee, dropping him into a kneel with a crash of armor, and tried to run past him. The soldier caught her though, and gripped her upper arm like a third manacle. The middle of his forehead was red and sore-looking and his expression was sour.

"The Admiral has commanded your presence in his sitting room," he said.

A chill flooded Katara's gut. She hardly heard the firebender regaining his feet behind her. "What does he want with me?"

"That's for the Admiral to say," said the soldier. "Now come quietly or Rudo here will carry you."

Katara turned back to cast a glance at the big firebender. He made a growling sound but his face plate remained blank, without emotion. She went quietly, just the rattle of her chains marking her exit from the brig.

* * *

Zuko knelt before his altar, trying to clear his head. Outside, clouds had rolled in and the night was darkening. The moon was gone from the bay. The sentries would switch out soon. Zuko was nearly ready. He needed only to quiet his mind and his body would do what had to be done.

He knew he had betrayed Katara's trust. First with the kiss, then trying to protect her from Zhao with Protocol. He felt sick. In that moment on the deck, he had thought her status would assure her good treatment but, now that he had a moment to consider it, he knew better. That would never have worked, not with Zhao. Now, whatever… fantasy or romance or impossible hope he and Katara shared had been ruined by his foolishness. She was in terrible danger because of him.

For all Zhao's outward displays of dignity, the man was capable of anything so long as it got him what he wanted. Honor mattered less to him than well-shined boots. Zuko knew better than to hope that he would return Katara to him after capturing the Avatar – more likely, he would use her to squash the Water Tribe rebellion himself and Katara and her friends would end up in some prison, if they were lucky. If not, Zhao would execute them as soon as their usefulness came to an end.

But even if Zhao could be trusted to honor his word, there was no way to know what he would do to Katara while he had her on his ship. He was power-hungry and a bully, and Zuko knew he would go to whatever lengths necessary to subjugate Katara. Even if she was nobility, even if she was barely more than a child.

Zuko shied from that line of thinking. It wouldn't happen. He wouldn't let it happen.

He drew a deep breath and pulled the black hood into place, then raised the mask of the Blue Spirit to his face. The wood was cold and coarse against his unscarred cheek, but his other side hardly felt it at all. He shut his eyes and tied the mask snug, then sat at his altar a moment longer, waiting.

Soon, now.

Zuko had betrayed Katara to her enemies and there was nothing he could do about that as himself, not if he ever wanted to return to his family with his honor. But as the Blue Spirit, he could do anything. He could do whatever needed to be done, and his loyalty to the Fire Nation need never be tarnished.

A bell tolled somewhere in Sowachi and the sound crept through his open window. The sentries were changing now. The time had come. Zuko squeezed through his window and scrambled down the observation tower, fitting his fingertips into seams in the steel. He hit the deck with the soft soles of his shoes and hopped over the gunwale, using one of the mooring lines to slide down to the dock, then scurried toward the clusters of smaller watercraft nearer the boardwalk.

Prince Zuko couldn't creep around this way, and he could never steal a rowboat. But as the Blue Spirit, he could. He could rescue Katara. He could free her friends.

He could even be the hero he wanted Katara to see in him.


	13. Chapter 13

AN: Thank you so much, reviewers! And thanks to everybody else just for reading!

Dang it, Kimberly T. You're right. At least one more chapter after this one, maybe two.

**Warning:**** This chapter contains a scene of sexual aggression towards a minor. It's thwarted but still creepy. **If that's potentially triggering and you want to skip it, just don't read the last section of this chapter.

* * *

Katara marched along with her escort as slowly as she could. She asked silly questions about the ship, which was actually much bigger than Zuko's, but the firebender refused to speak to her and the soldier kept shooting her accusatory glares as the welt on his face continued to rise. They were on the stairs, climbing, when Katara hit the topic she'd been aiming for all along.

"Do you guys have any daughters?" she asked, peering back over her shoulder at them.

The soldier narrowed his eyes at her, but finally answered. "No. I have a son a little older than you, though. He was a pest at your age, too."

"And I'll bet you were really understanding and compassionate about the emotional struggles of growing up, right?" Katara said, too sweetly. He snorted and rolled his eyes and Katara turned to the firebender. "How about you, Rudo? Any daughters?"

"Two," he said quietly through his face plate. "Good girls. A blessing to their mother."

"How old are they?" Katara asked, smiling.

"Twelve and ten."

"I'm just a little older, fourteen." She said it like it was nothing, but she knew they'd have to think about it. They'd have to consider what would happen to their children if they were taken captive.

Rudo said nothing. They climbed in silence for a moment.

"When I was ten, my dad sailed off with the men of our tribe to go to war. Is it that way in the Fire Nation? Do you just sail off and not see your families again for years at a time?"

"We have an alternating schedule – every other year we get leave for holidays," Rudo said. "Not much time, but it's something."

"My son was conscripted into the navy last year," said the soldier. "I see him sometimes when our ships cross paths."

"It's got to be scary to have your son at war," Katara offered.

"It's a whole lot scarier with the Avatar sinking ships left and right. Half a dozen men I knew drowned in those ships he destroyed a few days ago."

Katara stopped and turned around. "What?"

The two men shared a glance and the soldier pushed her on up the stairs. "Your friend sank six Fire Nation steamers with no provocation. Survivors said he just tore them apart like they were nothing."

Katara was stunned. Aang had done this? Gentle Aang had been responsible for people dying? Maybe he could do that if he was in the Avatar state but it would take a lot to push him that far over the edge…

Katara missed a step and staggered. A lot, like Katara being taken prisoner by Zuko. People had died and it was her fault. And Zuko's fault. And that stupid platypus-bear, who just would not let it go…

She was so stunned thinking about this that she didn't notice the rest of the journey up the stairs and down the long corridor. It was only when the soldier knocked on a door and Zhao's voice said "Come," that she realized the walk was over.

The door opened onto a military-style sitting room. Zhao sat on one side of the square table, a map weighted down before him and a pot of tea steeping nearby.

"If it isn't Lady Katara," he said, emphasizing the 'lady' as if it was a big joke. He quirked an eyebrow and gestured to the seat at his right. "Do join me. I have a proposition you'd be wise to consider."

* * *

Koa scrubbed the back of her hand against her eyes and took a few more deep breaths. "That was my granddad. Toko. He died a long time before I was born but I heard a lot of stories about him." She scowled and shot a pained look up at the poya. "Most of them aren't nice stories."

Aang settled down beside her to listen. Even the poya had lowered itself to watch Koa more closely. It twitched its whiskers.

She went on. "It's said among my people that Toko was too trusting of the poya. The old ways, the bonds from that vision, those are myths. Nobody believes in that stuff anymore." The poya made an angry buzzing sound and Koa ducked her head behind her hands defensively, but the poya remained still, waiting. "Toko did believe, and most people say he was a fool for it. They blame his delusions for the fall of the fisher nomads because he depended on the poya for survival when our people should have been looking for other ways to make a living."

The look on her face was so torn. Aang couldn't help himself. "You don't look so sure of that, Koa."

"Well I'm not," she spat. "Seeing the way my people used to live, compared to how we live now… We're scavengers, Aang. We build boats out of stolen parts of other boats. We fish but we live hand-to-mouth. You know I've never seen one of those floating smoke-sheds? We don't go far enough out from the coast to need those anymore." She shrugged and scrubbed at her face again. "I don't know. Maybe if Toko had survived and the poya had stayed with us, maybe things would have gotten better for us instead of worse."

"It's not too late for things to get better," Aang said.

Koa gave him a hard look and then drew another deep breath, shooting a glance at the poya before dropping her eyes to her lap. "My people are holding a grudge, too. They say that after the bison tuna vanished, Toko and the other fishers were lured away from the fleet to their deaths. By the poya. Nobody knew about the Fire Nation breaking eggs or killing Toko and the other fishers. Whatever story the last survivor told to that naked-faced liar, it died with her."

"Who was that guy, anyway?" Aang asked.

"I don't know," Koa said. "All of the fisher nomads wear tattoos on their faces now, but a lot of them didn't then. And…" She half-shrugged. "My dad, Toko's son, he kind of… ran away when he was young. We haven't had a lot of contact with the big fleet. Just at busy spots in the fish migrations. My dad… He hates the poya – because he thinks they killed his father. He's the one who started selling them… like fish." She scrubbed at her face again. Her voice was thick, angry. "I always knew there was something… something familiar about them. And I've just watched it happen. All my life, I've watched them get slaughtered. Dozens of them. Coming right up to the boat. Just to…"

Aang almost wanted to clap a hand over Koa's mouth. This information wasn't going to help her get away from the poya alive. But, when he looked at the hovering creature, he found her whiskers outstretched slightly. She was still listening.

"Koa," Aang said. "Why did you catch this poya? If you were on your own, away from your father's ship, he wasn't there to see you. Why would you net her?"

Koa dragged in some ragged breaths and huffed. She glared at the blue glowing canopy. "Sometimes your dad is there even when he's not there, Aang. I love my dad a lot. And I owe him, you know? It's— It's not easy being a girl fisher nomad. We… sometimes daughters are expected to make money in other ways." She assessed him for a second and Aang only blinked. "In ports," she pressed. "Dancing on the docks? _Other_ ways?"

"Ohh!" Aang put his hands on his knees and smiled. "Like reading palms and stuff?"

Koa shut her eyes and put a hand gently on her forehead. "Yeah, Aang. Sure. The point is, my dad never wanted that for me. He sent me out to learn to fish with Hato when I was a kid, and I got to grow up without worrying about any of that other stuff."

"Why would you worry about palm reading?" Aang asked. "It always seemed pretty cool to me."

Koa crossed her arms over her chest. "It's not cool. It's demeaning and gross and dangerous."

"Huh…" Aang tapped his thumbs together and thought for a moment. Koa certainly seemed to be overreacting to this, but maybe he just thought that because he'd never been in a situation that demanded he do something he didn't like for money. "I never really thought about it, but I guess touching a bunch of strangers' hands is a pretty easy way to get sick."

Koa stared at him for a long moment and then forced out a half-hearted chuckle. "No kidding. It's also dangerous because men… people in Earth Kingdom ports aren't any fonder of fisher nomads than the Fire Navy is. Working on a dock can be really dangerous for girls."

"Okay," Aang nodded as he started to understand. "So by letting you fish with Hato instead of doing these things on docks, your dad spared you from a lot of difficulty. And you feel like you owe him your loyalty for that? That's why you captured the poya?"

"Kind of," Koa said, looking off toward the shadows under the enormous root bridge nearby. "We had a fight a couple weeks ago. My dad caught me shooing a poya away from the hull and he got so mad… He told me I would ruin us with my weakness, that I was already a burden on our fleet because I didn't pull my weight and that letting a perfectly good fish go was like snatching food out of the mouths of my family. I had never really realized how much less money I drew in as a fisher than I would have as a p-palm reader." She fixed him with an aching stare. "Aang, I was trying to prove that I wasn't a wasted opportunity. I was trying to prove that I could be as good as a son."

Aang wasn't sure how to respond to this. As a monk, he had been raised without a father, partly because the power of that bond clouded the mind and prevented true balance. The closest thing he had was Monk Giatsu, but he had been so gentle and kind, it was hard for Aang to imagine that he could have taught anything but the right way to live. What if he hadn't, though? What if Aang had grown up with Koa's father, who worked hard to protect his family but was wrong in his way of viewing the world?

But Koa wasn't waiting to hear what he might have to say. She looked up at the poya and swallowed hard. "I guess I… I netted you because I felt like it was the only way to restore my dad's faith in me. And my faith in myself."

The poya's whiskers swayed. It let out a long peal of clicks. Aang didn't know what it meant, but maybe Koa did.

Her chin firmed and she refused to look away. "You were probably right about me. If Aang hadn't come along, eventually I would have gotten up the nerve to just finish it. I would have done all the murder my dad taught me to do."

* * *

Katara didn't want to sit down at Zhao's table. She stopped just inside the door, frozen.

"Silly me, I seem to have forgotten my manners," Zhao said as he uncoiled to his feet. Just from the smoothness and balance of the motion, Katara could see how strong he was. It frightened her. He mocked a courtly gesture toward the place beside his at the table. "Pray join me, Lady Katara."

Katara still didn't move. "I can hear what you have to say from here just fine."

Zhao's smirk boiled off to reveal something nastier, but only for an instant. He shot a stern look past her to the still-open door. "Dismissed."

Katara turned back to find Rudo and the soldier idling in the hall. The soldier's face was carefully blank as he gave a 'yes sir' and began pushing the door shut, but she was almost sure Rudo was looking at her from behind his face plate. The heavy clank of the locking wheel hit her like a blow.

So much for winning allies.

"Now," Zhao said. Katara turned back to face him and found he'd stepped away from the table, effectively clearing a path between them. Almost more frightening, he was not wearing his armor, but the same sort of fine casual attire Zuko had worn at lunch just yesterday. His expression, by contrast, was thunderous. "Take your place like a lady or I'll put you in it."

There was a rattling sound before her and it took Katara a beat to realize it was the chains clamped around her wrists. She drew a breath and balled up her fists to stop her hands from shaking.

He was so much bigger than Zuko. If he got his hands on her, she wouldn't be likely to squirm away. Maybe if she played along she could win some time to come up with a plan. "Alright," she said quietly. She focused on keeping her movements smooth and calm as she took the few steps into the sitting room and knelt on the cushion he had indicated.

Zhao didn't sit. He just stood looming over her, close enough to touch. Katara felt sweat prick out on her neck. Finally, she looked up at him.

He was watching her with that alarmingly creepy intensity he'd had on the deck earlier.

Katara didn't want to ask, but she had to. "What?"

Zhao only smirked. "Later. For now," he said as he lowered himself back into his place, "Tea."

Katara glanced at the pot, then back at him. She didn't want to drink anything that he had prepared. (Who could say what might be in it?) But there was no harm in holding a cup of tea and pretending to wait for it to cool. "Okay," she said.

"Pour it."

"I thought it was custom for the host to pour."

"In the Fire Nation, the lower rank, nearer to servants and peasants, always pours."

Katara set her teeth at his smug tone and picked up the pot. It was heavier than she had expected and she dribbled a little tea as it splashed into the small cups. When she lowered the pot back to the table, it struck with a thump.

"Such elegance," Zhao said. "You must do the Southern Water Tribe proud."

"Actually," Katara said, a little more sharply than she'd intended, "we don't drink a lot of tea at the South Pole. I haven't poured tea in years. And General Iroh was gracious enough not to make me pour his tea."

"Fascinating," Zhao said, and Katara's stomach twisted. She'd gone too far. "That clever old goat would use improprieties to set you at ease. He's quite the strategist with the ladies, I'm told."

Katara glared. "I don't know what you're talking about. General Iroh was nothing short of a perfect gentleman." Never mind having her tied to the bed or arranging all of the awkward encounters with Zuko. Zhao didn't need to know about any of that.

"Was he," Zhao said, though it didn't sound like a question. "And what about the banished prince? What sort of treatment did you receive at his hands?"

"He followed Protocol and treated me properly as a prisoner of war." But despite her words, Katara couldn't help her face from reddening, because Zhao's wording reminded her of Zuko's hands on her that first day, struggling in his bed. And of just hours ago, when he had held her so gently during the dance, when he had tilted up her jaw with his warm fingertips.

Zhao's smirk was swelling across his face. "Is that so? He seemed very upset to have lost his… prisoner of war, today."

"I don't know if you've met Zuko before, but he really just seems to spend a lot of time being upset."

Zhao laughed, and Katara didn't like the meanness in it. "But really," he said, leaning across the table. His hand fell uncomfortably close to where hers were wrapped around her teacup. "You can be comfortable telling me if he mishandled you in any way." His hand sprang off the table again to strike an aristocratic gesture, "In point of fact, I am familiar with Prince Zuko. His behavior some years ago caused quite the scandal and resulted in his banishment. His honor is questionable and he has proven himself cowardly under duress." Zhao laid his hand back down on the table, a precious inch shy of Katara's knuckle. She tried not to flinch. "So you see, I would believe you and would gladly file a report on your behalf of any crime he may have committed against you."

Katara wanted to run away. The way he talked about crimes made her feel gross. Instead, she withdrew her hands from the table and placed them carefully in her lap. The chains rattled. "Look, whatever you're digging for, you can just give it up now. Prince Zuko didn't do anything wrong. You, though, are making me really uncomfortable."

"Am I?" Zhao asked in an airy way that screamed false embarrassment. His expression when he looked at her, however, was sharp with anticipation. "Perhaps then it's time for a change of pace."

* * *

"Sokka, why are we turning around? I thought the idea was to escape from the Fire Nation, not hang around until they catch us again."

"Sorry, Hong," Sokka said, holding tight to Appa's reins. They soared high over the sprawled-out port town, circling back toward the docks. "One of those ships looked really familiar."

There was a pained sound from the saddle and, when Sokka glanced over his shoulder, he saw that Hong had buried his face in both hands and was taking big, calming breaths. Momo was peering up at him with his huge eyes, apparently sympathizing.

Sokka turned back toward the water, sitting rigidly straight. "My little sister might be imprisoned on one of those steamers. I have to go back."

"And you're going to try breaking her out, too? Do you know how lucky we were to get away the first time? And now an alarm's gone up, so all those soldiers will be on edge. Have you forgotten that you can hardly walk?"

"Don't worry," Sokka said, squinting at that familiar, battered steamer as it came back into view. It should have been hard to tell from so far in the dark, but it was definitely Zuko's ship. No one else sailed that crappy old model.

The deck was cluttered with stacks of crates and a handful of men were clearing them away one at a time, carrying them down into the hold.

"I have an idea," Sokka said, turning around in the saddle. "Take off your clothes."

* * *

Aang's stomach dropped out. Koa wasn't even trying to save herself from the poya's judgement. As he watched, the creature's long whiskers began slowly rising toward her. "But your heart told you not to," he said, urging Koa with his eyes. "You knew it was wrong."

She only hung her head.

"Koa, if you had killed the poya like your dad wanted you to, a part of you would have withered. You would have chosen to obey your father rather than to do what you knew was right. Don't you see? Your faith in yourself would have been replaced with faith in him."

Koa seemed to stiffen at that. She looked slowly up at Aang. The tattoos across her forehead bunched where she furrowed her brow. "That may be true, but we'll never know now how I would have chosen. You came and changed everything. My chance to make a decision is over. Either way," she said, gritting her teeth, "I failed."

"No," Aang said. "You made a decision, Koa. Every day you refused to kill the poya, you decided to wait and think about what to do. You waited and thought and now the right moment has come for you to make your next move." Aang smiled. "I think maybe I was supposed to meet up with you and Hato when I did. Now you know the truth about your people's past and you can do something about the way they're living."

For a moment, a brightness entered Koa's eyes. She seemed astonished, hopeful. But then the expression faded and she shook her head. "That sounds great… but the next move isn't mine to make, Aang. The spirit decides whether or not to kill me."

Aang looked back at the poya, only to see that it had begun glowing faintly yellow. Suddenly, the creature shuddered and dropped the last feet to the ground. It hit with a wet slap and clicked loudly as the glowing intensified. Whatever spirit occupied it emerged, a vast dark phantom filling the cavern. Its black mass poured around trees, flooding out the blue light from the roots and canopy.

Aang and Koa found themselves crouched on the ground beside the poya, surrounded by blackness. A white spot wavered into view and formed an almost-face, as if a face were reflecting off dark water and looking back at them.

"Koa of the fish-people, for the crimes of you and yours against my children and Our Mother Tui, I will have your life," it said in a voice that sounded like many voices – an old woman, a snarling animal, a chorus of children.

Aang leapt to his feet. "Wait! What gives you the authority to make this decision? Who are you?"

"I am the only authority on drowning, Avatar, and I have many names," the spirit said, scathing in every voice. "I am the mother's arms that cradle Tui's dead and dying. I am the stillness that follows a heart's final beat." The face rippled and quivered, one instant weeping, the next calm as the moon.

"It's Tohu," Koa said softly. "The spirit that gathers the souls of the drowning."

* * *

"I'd like to discuss your father's little rebellion."

Katara didn't even blink. "That's too bad, because I don't know anything about it."

"Luckily, for conversation's sake," Zhao said, pointing to a cove on the map, "I know quite a bit. For instance, that this is where that obnoxious little fleet of Water Tribe ships goes to harbor. And this," he pointed to another spot, "is where they buy supplies from Earth Kingdom traitors. And here," he rapped the tip of his finger in a slow rhythm against a little dot, not so far from their present location. "This is where the resistance will attempt to ambush a Fire Navy munitions vessel tomorrow and will instead find themselves trapped between a rocky coast and eight of my best war-steamers." He sat back, watching Katara closely. "Do you imagine he'll think of you as he's burning to death? Or will he be too occupied screaming?"

Katara's heart was in her throat as she stared at the point where her father could very well die tomorrow. She couldn't help remembering how he'd held her before he had left her and Sokka those years ago, and she'd been afraid it would be the last time she saw him. Would it be? Would he fall into a Fire Nation trap and be lost to her forever?

"You're lying," she said, shaking her head, trying to squeeze the note of doubt out of her voice. "There's no way you could know all this."

"Isn't there? The Earth Kingdom is rife with spies. A lot of people simply want the war over and done with. They've wisely come to recognize that submitting to the Fire Nation is the only way to save their families from so much heartache and desperation."

"My dad is smart enough to know who he can trust."

"He has been at war for a long time, though, hasn't he, Lady Katara? A man's mind loses its edge when the fight is long and hopeless. I know; I've seen it happen over and over, one rebel at a time undone by their own desperation for hope."

"Not my dad," Katara forced out. "That won't happen to my dad."

Zhao was only silent, and somehow that was worse than torturous possibilities he laid out before her. The silence forced Katara back on her own words, her weak denial of what could very well happen. It won't happen. It just won't. Every echo grew weaker, a frail remnant of the conviction it had been before.

"There is," Zhao said at last, "one thing you might do to help your father."

Katara looked up from the map and into the wolf-yellow eyes of the man beside her at the table. Those eyes crawled down her face to her mouth, her throat, then snapped back to her eyes.

"I want the Avatar."

Katara couldn't stop herself. She scowled. "I'll never help you."

Zhao's face creased slowly as his sharp smile returned. "I was hoping you'd say that." He clamped his hand around the manacle clasping her wrist. "An uncooperative prisoner can be so much more satisfying to deal with."

* * *

"You think you know me, child?" the white face asked, twisted with disdain. Its many voices echoed the sneer. "You know nothing. Thousands of years ago, my children took pity on your people, and for generations uncounted they protected you from me. They hunted for you, sang for you, lived among you – and your ancestors turned on them in an instant."

"They didn't know what had happened," Aang said, holding out his hands before him. "They were heartbroken over all their family members who had just died! It was wrong and they should have known better, but they were scared and sad and they made a mistake."

"Do not think to lecture me about mistakes, Avatar," Tohu said in many whispers. The face distorted. There was fury there, horror. "All of the imbalances in our world are consequences of your own mistake. I saw you in that ice. I would have embraced you myself all those years ago if you had not hidden away from me. A new Avatar would have been born. The world would have been very different."

Aang jerked back as if struck. The guilt that always simmered in the back of his mind flared up, but he firmed his stance and held his head high. "I know that it was wrong to run away, but I didn't choose to stay in the ice for that long. Now that I'm back in the world again, I'm going to do everything I can to repair the damage that's been done." He gestured to Koa, who still knelt on the twisted roots. "Koa didn't choose for her ancestors to turn against the poya, she didn't even know how it happened. But now she knows. And she can tell all her people about the mistake they made. She can repair the damage that's been done if you'll just give her a chance."

"Aang!" Koa struggled to her feet, favoring her uninjured ankle. "That's a really big promise to make. My father is set in his ways and I don't even know most of my people. And I'm awful with people – I can't convince anyone of anything. I don't want to make a promise like that, not knowing if I could keep it!"

"Truly?" asked the many voices of the drowning spirit. The white face glittered, reformed.

Koa shuddered. "I…"

Tohu seemed to swell, the face growing larger until it was as tall as Aang. Black tendrils swooped around Koa, the tapered ends feathering against her forehead, her palms, her throat. "Then I will have your life this way instead, Koa of the fish-people," the spirit said as Koa's skin began to glow yellow. "You will return your people to the old ways before the summer solstice. If you fail, if the blood of one poya is spilled at the hands of the fish-people after that day, I will find you. I will find you wherever you hide, Koa, and I will kill you."

To Aang's horror, Koa's eyes rolled up and her hands tremored at her sides. She looked like she was choking. He opened his mouth to protest, but as he watched, the lines on Koa's face began reworking themselves, coiling into new shapes. Tiny waves and tiny fish and tiny people riding their backs to the depths of her jawbone. Clouds unfurled across her brow. From her mouth, gaping open and black, tiny dark tendrils radiated across the skin of her lips.

Finally, the glow diminished and Tohu withdrew. Koa fell hard on her hands and knees. Aang whirled on the white face, which was shrinking away now, placid and smooth, but before he could say anything, a cold hand grabbed his.

It was Koa, she was breathing hard and glared up at him with wide eyes, shaking her head just a little. "No more helping," she managed.

Aang winced, looking at the ground as he helped her to her feet. When he looked back to face Tohu, the spirit was gone. The blue light of the underwater forest was back. On the ground before them, the poya clicked unhappily.

Koa immediately bent down and touched its slick head. "Oh Hona, I'm so sorry." She shot Aang an urgent look. "We have to get her back to the water."

"Hona?"

"That's her name. Come on."

It was a struggle, between the poya's slick weight and Koa's sprained ankle, but they made it to the nearest edge of the root mass and lowered Hona into the water. She did a happy figure eight, cutting through the water with her extended dorsal fin. As Koa was climbing in after her, Aang hung his head.

"I'm so sorry, Koa. I didn't mean to force you into that position."

Koa bobbed in the water and the poya nudged past her hands. She didn't look up at Aang when she spoke. "I know you didn't, Aang. And it's not like I don't want my people to change." She did look up at him then, and her eyes were a little worried even as she forced her mouth into a smile. "I'm really not looking forward to having that conversation with my dad, though."

Aang sat down on the bank. "What are you gonna do?"

"Well," Koa said, and drew a big breath. "First I'm going to find Hato. Who knows what kind of trouble he's gotten into by now."

* * *

Sokka stood before the only occupied cell in the brig, favoring his uninjured leg and frowning. The cell's occupant was a tall guy with spiky hair, grungy clothes, and a face-full of tattoos. He was sprawled on the bed, scowling at the ceiling.

He was definitely not Katara.

Sokka's heart fell. He had known getting on the ship had been too easy, too good to be true. The soldiers had been really effectively distracted when Sokka came running from behind a stack of crates limping and screaming about rabid rat-monkeys. Momo had handled the sound effects very well. No one had stopped Sokka from going down to see the medic for the wound that, without its bandage, was seeping a little blood through Hong's Fire Nation issue pants. Then, the guard stationed in the brig had stepped right into the clever little rope trap Sokka had rigged up in the hallway. Everything had just fallen into place so neatly. And now this.

"You're not Katara," Sokka said, shoulders slumping. The keys rattled softly in his hand.

The guy raised his head and took in Sokka's Fire Nation issue clothes and then his slap-dash topknot. He narrowed his eyes. "How do you know Katara?"

Sokka pointed his finger at the guy in the cell, a little panicky now. This guy looked like big trouble. What kind of acquaintances was his sister making during her incarceration, exactly? "How do _you_ know Katara?" he demanded.

The guy got off the bed and came closer. "I'm Hato. I tried to help her escape."

"She got away?" A wave of relief flooded Sokka, but only for a second.

"Not exactly... she kind of got captured by another Fire Nation guy." Hato dug a hand into his hair, looking pretty broken up about it. "I think she's in big trouble."

Sokka didn't trust this guy, but being imprisoned on Zuko's ship spoke well of his character. He considered his options and made a snap decision. The key scraped into the cell door and Sokka let it swing wide. "Then you can help me get her out of it."

Hato made a pretty good crutch, too, and when Sokka's knee gave out, he was really glad he'd decided to let him come along. They hustled back the way Sokka had come as quietly as possible, tucking themselves out of sight whenever the sounds of boots approached.

An alarm went up just as they reached the last flight of stairs. Sokka could smell the open air spilling through the doorway. "Okay," he said. "We may not have a lot of time once we're up there, so we need to dive overboard and swim under the dock. Got it?"

"Got it."

They hurried up the last flight of stairs and burst outside, only to find General Iroh and a dozen guards waiting for them in a circle.

Iroh peered at Sokka closely, frowning as if in thought. "My memory is not what it once was, but I think I would remember hiring you, Sokka."

* * *

"Let me go!"

Katara tried to wrench her hand away but Zhao's grip was too strong. He dragged her chained hands in close to his body so that she had to lean over the corner of the table toward him. Afraid he would try to kiss her, Katara flinched and turned her face away. Zhao only breathed hotly into her ear.

"Before, when you came to sit so nicely at my table," he growled, pausing as if to savor the moment again, "I was thinking how pretty you look when you bow your head and obey."

"I don't want to know what you were thinking!" Katara could hear how shrill her voice had become but she couldn't calm it. She pulled until her wrists stung from the manacles, until her elbows ached. She tried to get her feet under her so that she could pull harder. "Let go!"

But Zhao only dragged her closer. "You want me to let you go?" He began drawing her hand in a direction she really, desperately did not want it to go. "If you can be a good-"

"NO!"

Katara, instead of pulling, suddenly pushed. She flung herself at Zhao in an uncoordinated strike that carried her completely over the table. Tea spilled. A cup broke. Katara's shoulder connected hard with Zhao's nose, her elbow digging into his chest as he lost his grip and she scrambled to get away. She made a run for the door. Behind her, she heard his snarl as he regained his feet. There was no time.

Suddenly, his words from earlier came back to her. _…fallen nation of savage weaklings…_

Katara wheeled to face the enraged firebender just as he punched a blast of flame at her. It wasn't a very powerful strike, intended to knock her down more than to do real damage. She ducked aside, the heat barely licking her cheeks, and in the same smooth motion latched onto the only liquid available in the room.

Zhao was about to launch another attack. His arm was cocked back for the blow. His teeth were bared and his nose was leaking a line of blood down his lip.

Katara didn't really see the blood, and she also didn't hear the sound of the door clanking open behind her. All she was really aware of was Zhao – who was everything she hated and feared about the Fire Nation – and the only source of water in the room.

She fell into the stance reflexively, felt the liquid on the table respond, and hurled a whip of scalding tea into Zhao's face. He immediately staggered back and fell, howling into his clutching hands.

"That's how we pour in the Water Tribe," Katara snapped, and then rushed for the door.

Only then did she notice that the door was open and a dark figure stood framed in it. Katara skidded to a stop within arms' reach of the Blue Spirit.


End file.
